overflow
by Trilies
Summary: Chikusa and Ken's lives are simple. He is the son of a noble, expected to inherit. He is the son of servants, expected to obey. Despite this, they are still friends beyond their stations, and they dream of things beyond as well... But that was before the water. That was before they met Mukuro. [[A Dishonored AU]]
1. Prologue

"I," Chikusa announces imperiously, "am an _Adult_."

Just like that, Ken closes his mouth and squints at the other boy suspiciously with all of their prior argument immediately forgotten. In the cozy light filtering into the estate, he inspects the young noble carefully. Nope, Chikusa doesn't _look_ too different from how he usually looks, which is to say that he looks pale and scrawny and utterly Kakipii. Those really annoyingly delicate but expensive clothes still don't seem like they fit right no matter how many times the tailor visits him. (Personally, Ken finds it funny to see the adults get quietly worked up about it.) Glasses? Yep, still there and pinching his nose. Still that dumb haircut too.

His mouth scrunches up in aggravation. "Is this because you're _taller_?"

Watching Chikusa puff up helps ease off the edge of Ken's annoyance, if only because it's _hilarious_. There's nothing of Chikusa to actually puff up. He's made of chiken bones and skin. "It's not because I'm taller!" he snaps. "I read _adult_ books."

Oh. _Books_. Ken makes a face. "Big words doesn't make you older."

"It's not the words. It's..." A pause as he seems to think over his sentence. "...the _subject_."

"Show me," Ken challenges immediately, and relishes the way Chikusa blinks wide eyed at him. Ha! All too soon, however, he screws up his mouth stubbornly and sets off for the door. Ken follows after him, readily ditching the bucket of water and rag he'd been using to clean up the little playroom of the third floor. He _hates_ cleaning. It's boring and just the same thing over and over again. He'd rather be doing errands out of house, but he guesses then he wouldn't get to bug Chikusa.

Over well polished floors and rugs that cost more than a year's worth of groceries, Chikusa leads him into the solemn silence of the library. No one interrupts them in the halls on the way there. For one thing, Chikusa's parents are who knows where at any given time- Ken's own tell him it's very important work and socializing. He half wonders if they even remember they have a son. For another thing, the rest of Ken's family is busy buzzing around on the lower levels. There's a dinner, or something. He wasn't really paying attention.

The bright side is that Chikusa probably _was_ , and he doesn't seem concerned about being caught or anything. Instead, he's carefully inspecting the rows of books with his brow all scrunched up over the rim of his glasses. Before Ken can get too bored and start to fidget, the other boy moves forward. He watches in keen interest as Chikusa carefully starts to clamber up the bookshelves in his fancy dumb shoes in a way he can recognize as practiced. There's a book squished in on the very end on the very top shelf that he retrieves, carrying it with a grip Ken didn't know he was capable of as he comes back down. That's the thing about Chikusa. He prefers to do boring things, a lot of which involve sitting down, but when you push him, then things get _fun_. With the same kind of care he'd used to climb the bookshelf, Chikusa sits down with his knees folded beneath him. In half that time, Ken sprawls out on his stomach and watches him curiously.

Clearing his throat, Chikusa speaks. "It's called," he says in his I-know-more-than-you voice, "The Young Prince of Tyvia." He pauses and squints at him. "...It's supposed to be performed by people on a stage."

"Are you gonna do voices then?"

"No."

"Booooooring!" Ken boos, but Chikusa ignores him as he opens the book. Sulking, Ken rests his chin across his crossed arms to listen.

"The scene opens in the foyer of the Bayle manor, servants waiting to the side. The Bayle family, including its patriarch Lord Nathan Bayle, are speaking in hushed tones before they all straighten up as the door is opened for Prince Kallisar of Tyvia who is garbed in luxurious furs..."

It _sounds_ like it's going to be boring nonsense, at first. However, instead of being a boring political thing like Ken initially think it will be, this Kallisar guy ends up catching his attention. That alone is kind of impressive, considering Chikusa reads aloud with all the emotion of a dead rat. But then the story starts getting _interesting_.

"Prince Kallisarr, smiling coyly, reaching out... No need for anger between us, Lord Bayle. Is it so wrong for me to be here? As I've proven, I've developed an affinity for you and your family." Chikusa is starting to read a bit slower now, ears starting to flush pink, but Ken isn't really paying attention. He's just listening, perked up from his spot on the floor. "Lord Nathan Bayle... gasping... Oh, my, Kallisarr... your skin is so warm, it burns." A hard swallow. "Prince Kallisar, hand drifting- drifting-" And just like that, he snaps the book shut with his face practically blazing. Ken pushes himself up, scowling.

"You were getting to the good part!"

"You don't even know if it's the good part!"

"I could _tell_. It was getting good!"

"W-Well I'm done reading!" Chikusa scrambles up to his feet faster than Ken expects, and he nearly trips over myself in an effort to keep up. "So I'm going to put it back!"

"No! Give it to me and I'll finish it!"

"I'm not going to give it to you!"

"Why not-!" Except even as he's in the middle of demanding an answer, Ken pounces with all the force in his six year old body. Chikusa is skinny and always seems to be tripping over his own big dumb feet- when he goes down he goes _down_ , and Ken laughs so hard in his triumph that he drowns out Chikusa's offended squawk.

Which means he's left perfectly wide open for a smack to the side of his head

Together, they go rolling across the library floor, book to the side soundly forgotten in the heat of the moment and adrenaline pumping through their veins. Ken always forgets how stubborn Chikusa can be when he's in a mood, but that just adds to the _fun_. He growls and kicks and laughs, all which only make Chikusa scowl at him from behind skewed glasses. When he gets rolled onto his back once more, he screws up his nose and sticks his tongue out-

Chikusa smacks his hand straight over his mouth.

Ken is about to slobber all over it, but he finally takes in Chikusa's wide eyes and, somewhere in the house nearby, footsteps. Both boys freeze, chests heaving, and listen carefully to the heavy footfalls that go throughout the hall directly outside. Ken can hear his heartbeat echoing in his ears, and Chikusa's too, practically. Together, they lay there on the floor, tangled up in one another and listening carefully. When the footsteps finally fade off, stomping down the stairs at the end of the hall, Chikusa slumps in relief.

Licking Chikusa's hand to get it away from his mouth, Ken grins widely at the offended look on his face. "We didn't get caught!"

"We _almost_ did," Chikusa says sourly, pushing himself up to his knees and then his feet.

"But we didn't."

His cheeks puff up, and Ken laughs at him again. He's in such a good mood, he doesn't even care when Chikusa goes to put the book away again. It's fine. He knows where it is now, and he bets he can climb those shelves even better than Kakipii. As Chikusa comes down, however, he glances over at him and sighs. "You hurt your face."

Huh? Ken reaches up to lightly touch his face a few times before finding somewhere on his cheek that stings a bit when he prods at it. "Oh, huh."

He's about to lick his _own_ hand, because there's nothing a little spit can't fix but Chikusa grabs his arm before he can do that and starts to tug him along. "Come on."

"Where are we going?"

"I'm going to fix it."

The room Chikusa leads him into isn't far off. In fact, it's the next room over, some sort of study that Ken's explicitly been forbidden from entering. Chikusa enters like it's nothing, however, so Ken follows right after him. Hey- one of the family's sons is doing it, so it's fine for him too, right? "How are you gonna fix it?" he asks as he goes to sit in a chair Chikusa indicates, swinging his feet.

"There's something that makes sure gross things don't get into your skin, and makes it heal faster," Chikusa says, standing on a chair to reach a bottle on a shelf. "It _accelerates the healing process_."

Ken sticks out his tongue again. "You don't have to use big words to explain stuff!"

"It's good for you to learn big words."

"That sounds dumb."

"Well, you're dumb." Before Ken can protest that, Chikusa sticks _his_ tongue out at him, and laughter bubbles out of his throat. It keeps him content long enough for Chikusa to dab some of it onto a rag and lean down in front of him. When it's pressed against his cheek, Ken hisses.

"Ow! You said it was supposed to make me feel better!"

"I said I was going to make it _heal_ ," Chikusa huffs. "That doesn't mean it'll feel good. Like how eating cucumbers are important for your body but they don't taste good."

"I like cucumbers. _You're_ the one who hates them."

"That's not the point and you know it." He scowls at him before carefully tearing off a piece of bandage. Ken waits as he applies some sort of salve to the edges, perking up when Chikusa speaks again. "You know, when I'm old enough, I'm going to go to that College. The one of Natural Philosophy." He says the words carefully, not wanting to mess them up.

"Aren't smart people only allowed in there?"

"Yeah."

"You're only smart half of the time, so it might be hard!" Ken snickers, only for it to backfire in his face as Chikusa smacks the bandage onto the scrape on his face. As he sulks, Ken inspects Chikusa's huffy face. Something occurs to him. "Other people aren't allowed to go in there, right?"

"No." He gives the answer while putting everything away carefully, almost as if they were never touched at all. "It's just the professors and the students."

"Huh." Ken swings his feet recklessly, frowning. "Then we won't get to see each other."

Chikusa pauses, fingers still barely touching the bottle he's only now put back. "We'll get to see each other."

"How?"

"I'll figure out a way." Chikusa shuffles down from the desk. "Even smart colleges need people who can cook, or, uh, clean up exploded bodies."

"I wanna see an exploded body..."

"And if I can't do that," he continues stubbornly, "then I'll do something like... get an apartment outside and go inside to study. I bet you can do that. And we'll get to see each other all the time when I'm not learning, and I'll take care of you."

"I don't need taking care of!"

"You get into fights all the time!" Crossing his arm, Chikusa glowers. "And when you get hurt, I'll be there to fix you so that you're alright again."

Ken guesses it doesn't sound _too_ bad. It'll be nice, to have Chikusa always there for _him_. A grin spreads across his face. "And you don't know how to cook, so I'll take care of you, too. I bet none of those eggheads at the college know how to really cook."

His clearly selfless devotion is greeted by Chikusa making a face. "You don't know how to cook either! I overheard one of the cooks talking about how you almost set a stove on fire."

"Shut up!" Before their argument can continue, both of them freeze as they look towards the door. When there's no actual sound, just their imaginations, both boys quickly finish and sneak out of the study. It's only when they're back in the boring little room that Chikusa likes to hang out at, where the sun fills out the perfect spots for naps, does Ken speak up again. "Doesn't your pop want you to take over the company and everything when you're old enough?"

Chikusa is quiet for a couple of seconds as he curls up on the window seat, knees up against his chest. Ken can't really describe it, but he looks a little more _there_ with the sun drawing color out from his skin and his eyes catching the light. He looks more real, instead of just a ghost haunting his own house or the area around his family. "Yeah, I guess he does," he says after a moment as Ken clambers onto the seat with him despite how many times he's been told he's not supposed to.

"Can you run a business when you're busy being really smart at that school?"

"I don't think so."

That's probably going to raise all sorts of yelling when Chikusa ever tells his father- because Ken knows he _absolutely_ hasn't yet- but Chikusa is curled in on himself and staring straight out the window down to the pavement below. Bluntly, Ken moves forward to shove himself between Chikusa's legs and ignores his strangled squeak as he drapes over his torso with a grin. "Exploded bodies are way more neat than doing boring junk like math and stuff!"

Only on the seat precariously now, Chikusa still smiles in his weird awkward kind of way. "Yeah," he agrees quietly. "They're way neater."

He knows that he should get back to cleaning, or else his parents will get disappointed and other staff will scold him, but Ken doesn't want to move. Even though he's all bone, it feels comfortable to lay on Chikusa like this. The sun is hitting them _just_ right, too. Comfortable and warm, he lets himself drift as Chikusa turns his attention back to the outside towards the dam keeping Rudshore dry.


	2. my love, don't forget me

Chikusa awakes to the rolling rumble of thunder.

Blearily, his eyes flutter open and he pushes himself up. The room is a lot more dark than he remembers it being when he first curled up in the enormous plush armchair upstairs. Back then, late morning light had filled it with a heavy but warm glow. It had been so easy to drift off to sleep in the library that way, the book he'd been reading too dull for even him to stay awake through. Leaning down the chair, he grabs the book in question up off the floor and goes to put it back. That's the key to him having so much freedom in what he gets to read and where he gets to go- everything goes back in its place. His parents are never the wiser.

Then again, sometimes he wonders if they'd even blame him. They don't pay him much mind, but Chikusa doesn't think they'd think he'd misbehave, either. More than likely, he knows they'd blame one of the servants. They might even blame _Ken_ , even though Ken gets too fidgety if he's forced to stay inside too long and doesn't have the patience for books. The thought alone makes Chikusa frown as the book slides into place with a thunk.

He likes Ken. He's really gross and loud and doesn't know how to sit still, but he's fun, too. A bubble of warmth kicks up in Chikusa's chest whenever he's able to find something that interests Ken as much as it does him. There's not a lot of other kids his age that Chikusa gets along with, so... He'll have to make sure that Ken stays with him and his family forever.

The thoughts drift away from him as he wanders over to the library window, still rubbing at his eyes. Not only is there the flash of lightning, but the rain is coming down hard. Books he's read have described storms as _pounding_ or _vicious_. Now, as he leans close to the glass, he thinks he understands what they all meant. It's an onslaught, and he can barely make out anything beyond the window. Is it the rain against the glass that makes the streets below seem so full? Uncertainty rolls in his stomach in time with the thunder, and Chikusa steps away as he realizes something.

He hasn't heard _anyone_ past the sound of the storm.

Trying to muffle the flicker of panic in his chest, Chikusa hurries over into the hall and goes still as he listens with everything he can. No one is ever _really_ quiet. Sure, his parents are, by virtue of absence, but the servants? Never. It's something he's noticed when he's been left to his own. Either they're bustling around the house cleaning it, or they're tucked away in little corners of the house gossiping when they think no one else is around. Chikusa has learned a lot listening to them.

But as he pokes his head out into the hall, he can't hear anything. There's no footsteps, or cleaning tools clattering together, or tapping fingers against wood. When he ventures down the stairs to the lower floors, not a single one carries the quiet whispers of gossip.

Wracked with indecision, Chikusa rocks on his heels for a moment at the very bottom step of his home. Every bit of his personality shies at the idea of drawing attention to himself. At the same time, never before has he realized how _empty_ his world could be. Desperation makes the realization stick out all the sharper until he finally gives in. "Hello!" His voice shakes as it leaves his throat and echoes through the empty halls. "Is anyone here?" No answer. The distress in his voice gets sharper. "Anyone? Please? Ken!"

Silence.

Outside, the thunder crashes once more, and it rolls into his very nerves. His hands won't stop shaking as he quickly sets to exploring every single room he possibly can. Emptiness and silence greet him every single time while, outside, the rain only slams against the building harder. Curling up by the front door, Chikusa digs his fingers into his pants and bites his lip. Best he can, he tries to tell himself that everything will be alright. It doesn't make _sense_ for him to just be abandoned here by _everyone_. Right?

Chikusa comforts himself with that thought over and over again, his only sanctuary against the storm. It helps that outside, he thinks he can hear the sound of activity: carts and hurrying boots and indistinct shouts. Past all the rain, he can't make out the words. It comforts him regardless, helps bring him down from panicking. However, he's only been there for a few minutes when...

There's no describing the sound, not with so much background noise. In fact, it's not even a sound- it's a _feeling_ , a sensation that thrums through his ear down into his chest. Outside, the yells have become louder, and Chikusa scrambles to his feet. Standing on the tips of his toes and fumbling with the locks on the door takes what feels like ages, and when he finally opens the doors, the force of the wind slams it open. Chikusa falls back with a frightened shout that gets swallowed up in the gale, rain sweeping inside and stinging his skin. Fear pushes him upward and forward, and he steps outside the door. Immediately, his glasses are drenched and useless, but in that split second before that, looking up the street...

There's something wrong with the dam.

Past the rain, past his glasses, there's only dull color all blurred together, but the sense of _wrongness_ and a distant roar strikes terror straight into a heart like a plunging knife. Across the street, he thinks he saw a glimpse of someone, of a cart-

Chikusa jerks back inside his house instead, grabbing the door and digging his feet into the floor to help him force it closed. By this point, the already smooth wood floor is even slicker with rainfall. More than a few times, his feet slip and his cheek smashes into the door, but he quickly rights himself each time. When the door finally clicks into place, his chest is heaving. Somehow, despite the adrenaline flooding his system, he manages to get the lock slid into place first try.

The rising roar drowns out any regrets. From the corner of his eye, he can see something gray and oppressive barrel down the street, _consuming_ it. He feels how it smashes into the building from the bottom of his feet only a second before water, bursting from beneath and around the cracks of the door and windows, sweeps onto the floor. The pure force of it knocks him down his feet a second time, and the water is so _cold_. It stings his palms as he tries to catch himself, the splash barely a note amidst the wailing of rushing water- and the crack of wood splintering apart.

He doesn't think. He _can't_ think. Base instinct is in control of his hands and feet as he tries to scramble upright. Each time, tumultuous waters snatch away his balance. Past toes, ankles, knees, it keeps getting _higher_ like it's chasing how his heart has leapt from his chest to his throat. Panic and water blur his vision, and it's pure luck when his fingers wrap around the stair railings.

Beneath him, his legs are useless weights being used as playthings for the sea. It's his hands, soft from a soft life and slick from treacherous rain, that drag him forward. Water at his waist, now. He hooks his elbow around a column, ignores the pain as it digs into his arm, and reaches for the next. So damn cold, his feet have gone nearly numb, but somewhere beneath him, Chikusa feels himself smash his toe into the steps. He doesn't need much, just a push is enough, and he flails for the next bit of railing. He stumbles up a little more, but the water is _so fast_ , it's up to his chest, he can't see anything, and he can feel his hands slipping, his eyes stinging-

The water is rising and he's going to drown.

The knowledge rushes into his mind in time with the water rushing into his mouth as he slips, sinking into the pull of the storm. He's going to drown, going to die, all alone in an empty house. It bears down on him worse than the heaviness of his clothes, twice their weight and dragging through the water. He tries to open his mouth, desperate for air, but it only welcomes in the rain water, and this is it. This is _it_.

He wanted to do so much, wanted to go to that college, wanted to play and see Ken all the time, but _this is it_ , he's going to die and no one will care. Even as he's trying to push himself up and pull up further by the railing, he's fighting against more than just the water now. Despair shoves at his shoulders. It's half a miracle he resurfaces with a cough, half blind

and someone grabs him.

What looks like sunshine and moss past his tears hauls him up what's left of the dry stairs. Chikusa trips over himself as he ascends the steps, hacking out water and wheezing in air desperately. _So this is what the stories mean._ It's a thought that passes through his mind like a wisp, and he lets himself be pulled up to the second floor. As much as he wants to collapse, his body knows what safety is better than him. Automatically, it pushes him forward, pushes him higher, until finally he trips and falls on the third floor landing. Every exhale, every hack, is an expulsion of water. Tears and snot pour down his wet face. Chikusa barely notices any of it.

Only when his lungs are burning but empty does he finally wipe at his face. His glasses are next to useless, now, but he doesn't need them to recognize the person leaning over the steps downwards and whistling. Chikusa's voice comes out strangled and hoarse. "Ken?"

Ken twists around. Even with blurry vision, Chikusa can see the way he bares his teeth in a wide grin that takes up most of his face. It doesn't match up with the tension thrumming in his body that's just as obvious. "Kakipii! I thought you were gonna throw up the _whole ocean_."

For as long as it's existed, Chikusa has hated that nickname. Right now, he couldn't care less. He gets up on unsteady feet and stumbles to the other boy. Ken's expression immediately falls apart, all clumsy concern, and he steps forward to meet Chikusa halfway. "You came back," Chikusa croaks, tears welling up in his eyes again. "No one- I thought I was alone."

"Stupid Kakipii." Beneath Chikusa fingers curling tight into his shirt, he can feel how he's become tense and awkward. "Told you I was gonna take care of you too." His head twists to look back down the stairs. "I think the water is still coming... C'mon." He starts to move on, and Chikusa follows close behind. He doesn't let go of him. Ken doesn't pull away. Together, with the storm still raging, they go to the third floor. Ken is fidgeting, Chikusa can feel him, and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't scared too. He can still feel the water biting into him...

"...Is this enough, do you think?"

They're in front of his room, and Ken practically growls. "We can't go higher, stupid!"

Chikusa doesn't answer that. Silently, he tugs Ken along to his parents' bedroom. Even with rain beating on the windows and everything seeming grayer, it's just as majestic as ever. For a brief second, he feels an old urge to tiptoe and be silent, just in case. It doesn't last long; fear and chill swallow it up. Besides him, Ken is shuffling and grumbling about why they have to be in this stuffy old room instead of his, but Chikusa ignores it. Hidden among the curtains is a rope to pull, and Ken starts when a tug of it is enough to make a panel in the ceiling drop and a ladder inelegantly clatters down to the floor.

"I didn't know there was a secret ceiling thing!"

Even shaking- all fear, adrenaline, cold- Chikusa grins. "That's because it's secret."

Ken goes up first, clambering quick and agile in a way Chikusa can only dream of. Following after him is hard. His hands still won't stop shaking, his grip is weak, and his skin still damp. More than once, Chikusa nearly slips from his place and only manages to save himself by hastily hooking his elbow around a rung. When he's high enough, Ken reaches down and hauls him up into the darkness.

No windows are up in the attic. For a moment, Chikusa can only kneel there with no light and staring into shadows. Around him, the sound of rain consumes everything. He's only dimly able to see Ken's silhouette and listen to the shuffle of his feet as he ventures deeper into the attic. "There's so much _junk_ up here!" he calls back.

"Expensive junk!" Chikusa yells to him, getting up to his feet only to fall again when they prove to be too wobbly. At least his eyes are getting better, and shaking off some of the water from his glasses even lets him see a bit of detail, almost. Ken's figure stops by something propped up against a small mountain of crates. Squinting, Chikusa watches as he tugs it down and it falls hard enough against the ground to make Chikusa shake. "Ken!"

"I think it's a rug!" he calls to him, ignoring the alarm in Chikusa's voice. "C'mon, Kakipii!"

"H-Hold on-" He turns around, fumbling to pull the ladder back up. In his minds eye, he can imagine the water rising higher and higher and higher, bubbling up into the attic... It's only when the ladder is folded up again and the panel is back in place, bringing the attic into complete blackness, does he feel a little better. His feet are even steady enough for him to stand up, and he blindly gropes his way along. "Ken?"

"Over here, c'mon!"

Chikusa follows his voice, shuffling and bumping into crates and support beams until his feet find the edges of an unfurled rug. "Ken?" A hand reaches up into his wet clothes and tugs him down.

"Yeah, I'm right here."

Carefully, Chikusa kneels down. "...I'm cold."

Not too far away, Ken grunts and Chikusa can hear him roll over. "Yeah, me too. It sucks." There's a patter from impatient hands against the rug. "We should take our clothes off so we're not as cold."

"...Really?"

"Yeah! I mean, I can't see you anyway." A pause, and Chikusa scowls at the sound of a raspberry. "And it's not like you don't have stuff that I don't have!"

"Shut up." Still, it does feel good when he tugs off his waistcoat. The stagnant air of the attic rushes a chill through him, but the goosebumps were already there anyway from the water clinging to his shirt. It's not that bad. Definitely not any worse. He dumps his wet clothes to the side, just in his underwear, and curls up with the rug beneath him. Nearby, there's the slap of clothing hitting wood and he sighs. "You shouldn't throw things."

"No one cares." A rustle, and Chikusa thinks Ken is laying on the rug in much the same way he is. "Except you, dummy."

Maybe he's right, but Chikusa won't admit it. He just fidgets against the rug, glasses digging into the side of his face. It'd be better to take them off, but he's scared- to lose them in the darkness, to not be able to see at all. He's scared of a lot of things, with the rain sounding all the louder here.

Across from him, he feels Ken's hand press into his.

The rain. The darkness. The heat from Ken, curled up not too far away from him.

This is the world Chikusa falls asleep to.

Everything is still dark the next time he opens his eyes, but the rain has stopped and he can feel _drool_ on his shoulder. Groaning, Chikusa squeezes his eyes shut and starts nudging at Ken with bony elbows. "Stop iiiit."

A grunt answers him, and Ken burrows closer. It takes a few more elbow hits and a tug of his hair before the other boy wakes up. "What?"

"Get off me. You're being gross."

"You _always_ say I'm gross."

"You're being gross on me!" While Ken grumbles and they untangle themselves while blind, Chikusa stews on his next words. It's as he's trying to straighten his glasses on his nose that he tries saying them. "...The rain's stopped."

"Yeah... Do you think the whole place is flooded?"

"If it was flooded, then there'd be water up through cracks in the floor... I think." Chikusa pushes himself up to his knees. He's still shaking, just a little bit, but it's not from adrenaline. It's more the loss of Ken's heat against him, burning like hot coals. When he goes to stand up, there only a little wobbling. "C'mon, let's go check."

A lot of shuffling through the dark and Ken stubbing his toe on the latch is needed before they find the panel and ladder. Both of them hold their breaths as it falls open. Light immediately blinds them, too bright for their eyes after hours spent curled up in the attic, and Chikusa recoils with a grimace. Besides him, he can hear Ken curse with the kind of words Chikusa's own parents would despair at. It takes a long moment before his eyes adjust again so that he can stare down at the floor below.

"...There's no water." That's a little bit of a lie. He thinks he can see some stains, here and there, from where rain somehow seems to have pelted the wood and rugs of his parents' room. Still, it's a far cry from the flooded disaster he was dreading.

"Then it's okay!" Before he can protest, Ken is already swinging himself down and jumping halfway down the ladder. Chikusa scrambles to follow after him, ignoring his own trepidation. His feet touch the ground just in time for Ken's whistle. "Hey, hey Kakipii, come and look." He's over by a window when Chikusa looks around, one that's whole and not broken like a couple in the room. His bare hands are plastered against the glass, nose squished up against it, and Chikusa can't fight against the call of Ken's voice and his own curiosity. When he stops besides him, his breath is stolen away.

Rudshore... is more ocean than district. Chikusa can't comprehend it for a second as he stands there besides Ken and gapes. Sunlight reflects off of the water, deceptively serene as though it hadn't rampaged only hours before. From its grasp rise some buildings still, battered and showing obvious signs of wear. Belatedly, it occurs to him to wipe his glasses along the curtains, and the world comes further into focus: shattered windows all along the street, debris floating idly through once bustling streets, and, off in the distance, the crumbled and gaping remains of the barrier which once held the ocean at bay.

The place that was once home is now nothing more than abandoned ruins, left to the sea as an offering.

Chikusa can't find the words for it all as he looks out past the window. He's not sure he even _has_ any. Yet, almost reliably, Ken pipes up besides him to ruin the moment. "Wow, everything is _shit_ now."

That's one way to snap him out of it. Chikusa doesn't scowl at the language, however. Still bare save for the little that covers his modesty, he wraps his arms around himself and shivers. "I don't think anyone is going to come to find us for a while..."

"But, they'll come eventually, right?" Ken stretches his arms up over his head, and it reminds Chikusa of how sore his own body feels. "Because you're a rich family's kid. There's no way your ma and pop would leave you."

Chikusa bites his lip, rubbing at his elbows. "But... Where was everyone else before, then? I woke up and the whole house was empty..."

"Oh. Uh." Ken pauses, brow furrowing as he digs through his mind. It's always easy to tell when he's trying to remember something or is frustrated. He wears all his emotions on his sleeve. Chikusa likes watching his expression change. Now, especially so. It distracts him from everything else. "Well, it was supposed to only be me and some of my family, right? Because some people couldn't come work because... I dunno, I wasn't listening, whatever, it's not important. So all of us had to go when we needed to get stuff for the house. We were up near, you know, Knight Street, and then everyone started talking about how the dam was gonna break soon because it was storming so hard and about how it might be better if we just left..." His hands jerk about clumsily as he gestures, trying to explain that way. "But I remembered you were still here, so I came back."

Something warm and painfully twisting is in his stomach. Still, there's a question he can't help but wonder about. "All the streets looked like they were going to be flooded, 'tho... How did you get up to the second floor?"

"I just broke a window to get inside." A pause, and Ken wrinkles his nose. "...Actually I broke a bunch of windows. There was a bunch of people in the streets, and it was easier, so, I did it."

"But... Doesn't that mean your family will notice you're missing, too?"

"Naaah." Ken rocks back and forth on his feet. "I mean, my family is _huge_. There's a bunch of kids. I don't think anyone'll miss me."

"Well, I mean." Tentatively, Chikusa reaches over to link his fingers through Ken's. "I missed you."

Ken blinks in befuddlement at their linked hands for a moment, face slack in surprise, but before Chikusa can worry that he's messed up somehow- there's a wide grin. The other boy doesn't say anything, he just excitedly swings their hands faster and wider. That's... probably normal. It's when he starts stomping his feet, almost hopping a little in place, that Chikusa becomes sure of two things:

One is that there's no fighting the incredulous expression on his face.

Two is that Ken is even weirder than he _thought_.

Before he can ask what on earth is wrong with him, Ken twists around dragging Chikusa with him. "Let's go explore the rest of the house!"

"Wh- Ken, hold on, we need to get dressed!"

Considering most of Rudshore is apparently underwater, which includes some of the on-site servant quarters, the only thing they can do is go to Chikusa's room. Predictably, nothing of his actually fits Ken. Chikusa's clothes dangle past his hands and pool at his feet. A good few minutes of their time is rolling up sleeves and pants legs until Ken can actually walk around without tripping over himself. It's then and only then that Chikusa gives the go-ahead for them to explore the rest of the house. Everywhere in the third floor is mostly fine, save for wind-scattered objects and a little rain having intruded through broken or blown open windows. It's when they start to go down to the second floor that Chikusa has to follow Ken's example and roll up his own pants.

It's not... _completely_ flooded. That is to say, it only goes halfway up Ken's calf when they reach the floor. There's no helping the pained noise that bubbles out of Chikusa's throat when he sees the water extend to the library and his father's study. All the books... Ken's hand, still warm in his own, tugs him away from the sight until they're at the stairs.

Ken squints. "I think the whole first floor is gone..."

As if on cue, Chikusa's stomach twists and rumbles. He curls his free hand over it in embarrassment. "The kitchen is on the first floor... We can't not eat, Ken." He's read things about people starving. It sounds slow and painful.

"Yeah, I'm hungry too." He tugs Chikusa along past the stairs. "Maybe there's stuff in some of the other houses! We can get to the neighbor's house through the windows I broke. Everyone left their stuff behind when they ran off, so they can't complain if we have it!"

Chikusa thinks this over carefully as they wade through the water. After a minute or so, he nods. "They'll understand it was necessary," he agrees. There's no one that would say otherwise to a pair of starving children, right?

Getting over to the next building isn't as scary as he works it up to be in his head. As Ken clears out the rest of the glass, letting it plink into the water just outside the window, Chikusa looks at the distance. It's only really a decent jump from one building to the other... And there is the water right there beneath them. Still, his fingers knead into Ken's shirt. "It'll be fine, right?"

"I was doing it _a bunch_ of times," Ken promises. "Watch me!" He gets up onto the window sill, and Chikusa sticks nearby to do just as asked. Ken makes it look so _easy_ , legs tensing before he jumps over to the open window across from him. Chikusa's heart leaps into his throat when Ken lands and wobbles, looking as if he'll fall for that brief moment, before he breathes again as his best friend just steps into the building proper with a stumble. Turning around, Ken presses his knuckles to his hips proudly. "See? Now you do it!"

Still more than a little nervous, Chikusa braces his palms against the window frame and pulls himself up. His feet are unsteady on the narrow ledge. Below him, the water... It's so deep. So dark. Somewhere inside its greedy maw, he can see something flick and disappear. He thinks of slipping and being pulled under, of losing his breath, and nearly steps away.

Right as he thinks of refusing, he looks up. Ken is there, watching expectantly and tensed as if he'll jump back again. Chikusa swallows. If he stays, he'll be alone again. He'll be alone for however long Ken will be gone, and what if he doesn't come back one day? Fear strikes through him sharper than the sting of water and, before he knows it, Chikusa is leaping. There's the window sill- and then he's slipping with a yelp, flailing as he starts to fall forward. Before his legs can fall out from under him, however, there's hands grabbing his arms and tugging him forward. The two of them stumble into the room, nearly falling one way or the other before finding stability. Chikusa's heart is pounding in his chest so hard his bones might break, and he digs shaking fingers into Ken's shirt. In response, Ken holds him just as tightly.

"We made it!" he proclaims, dragging Chikusa along through the flooded building instead of letting him stand there and shake. Chikusa only nods mutely.

Sticking close together, they explore the house. The floors that can be traversed don't offer them much in the way of food, unfortunately. That's the bad news. However, the third floor offers whale oil bottles and shoulder bags along with other things like blankets and clothes. Chikusa keeps it in mind, even as he takes two bags for himself and Ken. Much the same can be said for the next house they go through, and then the next. It's when they backtrack to explore the house _behind_ Chikusa's that they find any success.

When they reach the third floor, Ken nearly jerks Chikusa's arm out of its socket, a wide grin on his face. "Kakipii, look!" It's easier said than done when he's trying not to tangle his feet together and his bangs are in his face. When he's finally straightened up, Ken has dragged them over to a woman's vanity. It's a woman's room in general, Chikusa thinks, because there's still a faint smell of floral perfume amidst the scent of rain him and Ken bring with them. There, proudly displayed, is a fruit basket that is _ridiculous_ in how opulent it is. Chikusa's parents have always been a bit more somber, even with all their riches. This is the kind of thing that only was ordered for the parties _really_ meant to impress, and here it is on someone's vanity.

He's not surprised in the slightest to see Ken already reaching for it with a wide grin on his face. Then again, with the gnawing in his stomach, Chikusa doesn't care. Relief washes through him, and he shares the grin Ken levies his way as they both grab for a fruit.

Hunger, as it turns out, doesn't really allow for much thought. There's only the satisfying sweet taste over his tongue as he bites through a peach, the sunlight pouring down on him as they settle in front of a window, and Ken's comforting sturdy presence leaning against him.

When he finishes, peach filling some of the hollow ache of his stomach and his tongue licking juice away from his fingers, that Chikusa comes to. "No, no," he says, swatting at Ken's hand as he reaches for an apple. "We shouldn't eat anymore."

Ken scowls at him, not appreciating how he's being held back. " _Why_? I want to eat all of it!"

"But if we eat all of it right _now_ , what will we eat _later_?" As Ken pauses at that fact, Chikusa frowns to himself and kneads his fingers into his pants leg. "...I wanna eat more too. But... If we're not careful, we'll eat up everything before someone can find us. So... We should bring this back home, and put it in the attic where we went to sleep. That way we know other things won't get it." It's the responsible thing to do, he thinks, and it makes him feel a little proud of himself. He can make sure Ken has food to eat. He'll watch over him too, just like he promised.

Not that Ken seems to really _appreciate_ all this thought being put into place, judging by the raspberry he makes. "Uuuuugh, I hate it when you pull smart stuff like this." He sends another hungry look towards the basket. "That means we'll get to eat it for dinner tonight, right?"

"Yeah. And if we find anything else, we can make that a part of dinner too."

"...Do we _have_ to wait _that long_..." He tears his hungry glance away from the basket to pout at Chikusa. "C'mon, Kakipii!"

He really wants to refuse, but the little he's eaten just puts that bit of emptiness in his stomach in stark contrast to everything else. Surrendering, he reaches into the basket again. "We can share a Tyvian pear together."

"Oh like that book!"

It takes a second for Chikusa to parse his meaning, but when he does, he nearly drops the pear with a red face. "It's nothing like that book!" At his red face, all Ken does is laugh. Stopping it means shoving pear pieces into his face.

By the time they go through the rest of the house, gathering whatever they can into their bags, the air is thick with humidity as they hop back home. Definitely too humid to keep exploring. The worst of the day is passed back in Chikusa's room, with books salvaged from the library and Ken's head on his lap.

It's... almost nice. Nicer than the stifling confines of his life before.

"How long do you think it will take them to find us?" Chikusa asks when they've retreated to the attic after night has fallen, the soft blue glow of a whale oil lamp illuminating the dark space. His hands stay busy, organizing books and trinkets he'd brought up while Ken napped. His parents will be glad of it, maybe. "A day, a couple of days...?"

Unlike him, Ken doesn't do so well in such a small dark space, but there's no exploring in the night. The waters robbed all power, too, and there's no one else to light the street lamps. Chikusa watches him pace impatiently, his body dipping in and out of the circle of light. A frustrated groan echoes out from the darkness. "I hope it's soon, it's so _boring_ being up here! And I already ate the fruit for dinner..."

"Go to sleep, Ken."

"But I'm so _booooored_!" He ducks into the light again, flopping onto his stomach all over the rug. "We should have brought fun stuff up here, too..."

Chikusa only half hears him. His hands are moving, but his mind is elsewhere entirely. "If they don't find us tomorrow... Then we're going to have to keep finding food. And whale oil. And, and..." He pauses, thumb rubbing against the wood of his mother's jewelry box.

A pinch of his thigh snaps him out of it, and he looks down at Ken who's crawled over to him. He pokes his leg again. " _Now_ who has to go to sleep? You think too much."

"And you don't think at all, so I have to think for both of us."

"Yeah, well, you suck-!" Chikusa yelps as Ken tackles him to the ground, and it quickly dissolves into choked giggles because of the fingers digging into his sides. He flails ineffectually, jerking beneath Ken and trying to squeeze his arms down to block the attack. There's no fighting against Ken, however. Chikusa laughs until he feels dizzy and tears are flooding past his cheeks. He wheezes when Ken rocks back, still sitting on top of him, and he can barely see the other boy's triumphant grin. "Dumb Kakipii."

Wiping at his eyes, Chikusa tries to own his own small smile. "You cheated."

"Nuh uh! You were being dumb, so it's fair."

"That doesn't make sense."

"It makes great sense." Straightening his glasses, Chikusa watches as Ken sticks his tongue out at him. "You were being dumb. You don't have to worry about all this stuff when I'm around. I _told_ you I'd take care of you."

Ken shuffles off him, looking proud, and Chikusa sits up shaking his head. "And I said I'd take care of you first, remember?" Letting Ken process that, Chikusa reaches over to reach for the jewelry box that had tumbled across the floor. "You can take care of me... tomorrow. When we go out again to explore. You can make sure I'm safe, and I'll make sure we get everything important."

He watches Ken roll the idea around in his head for only a quick second before there's a bright grin and a nod. "Yeah! Where are we gonna go explore tomorrow?"

For a moment, he flounders. He hadn't thought- but then again, it's not like there's anyone else to tell them what to do. "Uh... Is there anywhere you wanna go?"

"Ummm... Oh!" Ken snaps his fingers. "We should go to the Erfeches."

"Erfeches?" His brow furrows. "They're across the street, so it's gonna be hard... Why that house?"

"'Cuz the guys who live there are jerks and I hate them."

Well, Chikusa guesses he can't argue with that logic. He nods. "Then we'll figure out a way to go to the Erfeches." His hand smooths over the jewelry box and he frowns at Ken. "My parents are gonna be upset at how this is scratched..."

"We don't have to tell 'em it was us! We can say it was the storm!"

As it turns out, they don't have to worry about what to say to Chikusa's parents. No one comes for them the next day.

Or the day after.

Or the whole week.

They move the important things up to the attic. This includes just about all the books from the library, of course, which is a whole big thing that takes an entire day inbetween their exploring. Chikusa lets organizing them occupy his nights sometimes, something simple and repetitive that doesn't _really_ take a lot of effort. Oftentimes, he falls asleep curled in front of a stack of books and inevitably wakes up with Ken somehow having found his way to him again in the night curled up against his stomach. Blankets, tools, nearly everything salvageable from his father's study, and clothes are among the other things they gather both from what's not flooded of their own house and in the houses they venture into. Slowly, day by day, they collect quite the hoard. When they go to sleep, it's in a nest of blankets, and when they eat, they choose from a pile of cans full of potted whale meat or jellied eels. It's not fine dining, but neither Chikusa or Ken can complain too much when their stomachs twist.

Still... The dilemma runs circles through Chikusa's head. In the past, he's always listened to Ken's complaints about little things like problems at the grocers or the grossness of the docks ever since the other boy first realized he'd listen. He knows better than to just assume that they'll be able to keep finding battered tins. Things like that don't magically replenish.

After all, no one lives in Rudshore but them now.

Well, them and the hagfish. From the makeshift bridges him and Ken put together connecting the windows, Chikusa stops one day to watch the water. Some places are clearer than others. It makes it easier to watch their long slick frames drift beneath the boards. In front of him, Ken stops because he has, and his warm palm squirms in Chikusa's hand. "Does one of them have a finger in its mouth?"

"Ew, no." Chikusa shakes his head, nose wrinkling. "I was just thinking... I wonder how hard it would be to catch one."

"Well, hagfish'll eat anything, s'what I've heard. Even each other." Ken crouches down, the wood beneath him creaking a little bit. It won't break, of course. It was once a table made of Tyvian lumber and apparently that never breaks. What Chikusa is far more concerned with is how Ken reaches his fingers just barely into the water and wiggles them. In the murk, a sharp twist, pale eyes, the glint of long fangs- Ken jerks his hand up out of the water right as the hagfish snaps its jaw up and Chikusa shouts.

"Ken!"

Nothing but laughter, although some of it is a little jittery. "They're huge!"

"Don't do that!" Chikusa fingers dig into Ken's knuckles and around his arm. More than he wants to admit, his voice and body shakes. Something about it seems to get Ken's attention, because he stops laughing and nudges his head against Chikusa's.

"I'm fine, see?" He holds up his hand, mostly clear except for a few tiny scratches and calluses. It's a mirror of Chikusa's own, a show of the life they're sharing together. "You're such a scaredy cat, Kakipii. Nothing's gonna hurt me!"

That's almost definitely not true, but Chikusa tries to let it comfort him as the two of them stand up together. "...It looks like if that latched onto you, it'd hurt a lot."

"They do have really long teeth." Ken leads the way into the next building, where the shade is a relief from the beat of the sun outside. "And it'd be hard to grab them, because they're so slippery." Thoughtfully, he sticks his tongue out and curls it up over his lips. Honestly, it's kind of gross. It always makes him look like he's trying to stick his tongue up his own nose.

"Yeah... We'd have to use bait, or something." The idea doesn't sit well with him. They're precarious with food as it is. Can they really afford to use some of it on an idea that might not even work? There's a bump against his shoulder, and Chikusa blinks his way out of his own thoughts. Ken tugs him along.

"C'mon, Kakipii. You can worry about it later. I bet up where the water is more shallow, there's lots more food people left behind."

And for once, Ken is right. Food is found farther then they've ever gone before, in a building where the first floor has water that only goes up to their waists instead of the ceiling. Chikusa nearly gasps when he peers around a doorframe in the backrooms. It's the first time he's seen a kitchen in over a _week_ and there, piled high on counters, are boxes. He can't even speak. All Chikusa can do is tug Ken away from where he's been side eyeing the water. Something deep in his chest swells in satisfaction when he sees the way his best friend's eyes light up at the sight. "Do you think it's all still good!?" Ken babbles in excitement as they stumble through the water, letting go of Chikusa's hand to help heft himself up onto the counters. Chikusa, in contrast, tries to wade through the water to a door nearby. A pantry, probably. Some things on the counters- a can opener, a couple of knives, useful things- he snatches up on the way there to shove into his bag.

Behind him, he can hear Ken going through one of the boxes and whooping. "I think there's actually _bread_ in this! And it's not moldy yet!"

Bread. More tins. Maybe even other stuff, depending on what's safe in the pantry. Excitement thrums through Chikusa.

Getting the pantry door open through all the water is tough. In all honesty, it's more a job for Ken than Chikusa. Still, he manages just enough for there to be a gap he can slip through. Light dimly lights up the room, reflecting off of the water and casting strange shadows on the wall. Something about it speeds his heart up. Too small a space, water too cold as it envelops his legs. Chikusa forces the feeling down. This is for food. This is for Ken. He's more important than Chikusa's feelings. Opening one of two ice chests is easier than the pantry door, and so much is still full of food. Chikusa would wonder about it, but he knows why there's food left behind like this in comparison to the growing lack of paintings or rugs as they've come further from the deeper parts of Rudshore. It's the same reason his mother's jewelry box lays up in the attic with all the more sensible things. For now, he focuses on what's in front of him: all this food that's been able to last thanks to the coolness of shadows and water and what remains of the ice.

It's right as he's shoving some Serkonan sausage into his bag that there's the sound of _pounding_.

Chikusa's heart leaps into his throat.

Immediately he stops what he's doing and wades back to the cracked open pantry door. The pounding continues the entire time, hitting a crescendo of wood splintering and falling into the water. Ken is still on the counters, but he's made his way to the ones by the door while drawn down on all fours. With the door opening inwards, he's out of sight to anyone coming in. Spotting Chikusa peering out, he presses one finger to his bared teeth. It's not like he has to tell him twice.

As Chikusa shrinks back into the shadows of the pantry, he holds his breath and listens. Like so many houses of Rudshore now, there's such an _emptiness_ that even the softest creak or drip is often horrendously loud. He's noticed it for days now, sitting in an empty building with Ken on his lap and taking it all in. Silence and echoing noises are what he's used to. Whoever is busting through the front door, however, is making _so much loudness_ that it rattles him down to his core. Chikusa curls his fingers against the doorframe, heartbeat in his ears, and forces himself not to shake as water splashes in some of the other rooms.

The source of it all finally wades through into the kitchen after what feels like an eternity. In the dimness, he seems like more a monster than the gaping jaws of hagfish: tall, rough featured, scowling and swearing under his breath. The hair on the back of Chikusa's neck stands up while he watches him. To be more specific, he watches to make sure he doesn't notices Ken's frame hunched beneath a cupboard. The good news is that he doesn't, attention firmly on the boxes ahead of him. Maybe it's his noisy movements that keep him from not noticing Chikusa's breath and drum-loud heartbeat, because he can't imagine how the man doesn't hear him otherwise.

He's praying, desperately and with everything he has in his meager frame, that nothing happens. The same parts of him that whisper _danger_ whenever wood seems too weak or water too deep are yelling it in his ear now.

All that prayer goes straight out the window when the man starts to go through the box and, after tucking a tin in his pocket, starts to pick it up. An enraged _shriek_ rebounds through the kitchen, nearly stopping Chikusa's heart, and Ken is yelling even as he leaps at the man from his perch. "That's _OURS_!"

Chikusa wants to yell, to do something, but his body is frozen up completely- the first of the flood all over again, as if the water is coiled around him even though it's only up to his waist. All he can do is watch with his voice lodged in his throat. Ken is a flurry of indignation and possessiveness, attached to the man's back and shoulders while his fingers try to claw at his face. It's hard to tell what's louder, his enraged yelling or the barrage of vicious ugly swears that fall out of the man's face as he flails and stumbles through the water. For a brief solitary second, Chikusa thinks maybe Ken will do it, Ken is always saying he's strong, maybe he'll _win_ and he'll be _okay_ -

Reaching over his shoulder, the man grabs Ken by his shirt. Chikusa flinches back as he's flung against one of the counters and the sharpness of his pained yelp. Crumpling into the water, he doesn't even have time to resurface before he's grabbed again and hauled up. Slamming Ken against the cupboards, the man snarls. "You little bastard! I'm gonna cut you up for the damn hagfish-" Ken's arms are so short compared to his, his nails can only scrabble against his hand and wrist. There's nothing he can _do_ as the man, from his pocket, fishes out a _knife_.

Everything in the world twists in Chikusa's eyes. He's submerged again, the world slow, his lungs robbed of air. He's going to kill Ken. _He's going to kill Ken_. The only person who's ever truly looked at Chikusa, the only person who's come back for him, the only one who's _cared_ , and this stranger is going to rob Chikusa of all of that. His body moves independently of his frozen mind, not needing any input, and Chikusa feels like an outsider looking in as he watches his hand reach into his bag. The handle of the kitchen knife fits awkwardly in his hand, but the way he grips it with the white of his knuckles showing past skin makes up for it in spades. Ken's ruckus is the perfect distraction, his feet lashing out to make up for his lack of reach and prolonging the plunge of a knife. The man doesn't notice Chikusa wading through the water behind him.

Not until Chikusa pulls back his arm and thrusts the knife point as hard as he can into the back of his thigh.

It sinks in so easily. Distant and detached, Chikusa marvels at the fact. It slides out easy, too, just in time as the man gives a shout. He drops Ken as he crumples, but Chikusa doesn't stop. The motion of his arms and the knife is almost mechanical. He doesn't even need to think about it. Again, the knife pierces through from the back this time but it's a little harder. Images of anatomy books spread out beneath his palms flicker through Chikusa's mind. Compact muscle and bone, not like the softer flesh in the leg. Brought down like this, he's perfectly in reach for Chikusa to adjust the hold of the knife and drive it in again between his shoulder blades. All the yelling and the squelch of flesh becomes farther and farther away, his hands moving again and again and again, and soon enough the world is quiet and the only thing that exists are his hands moving-

Chikusa's vision jerks. It takes him a second to realize there are arms wrapped around his chest from behind, and that he's being dragged away. As the world comes back into focus, so does the sound reach his ears again. "-pii, c'mon, quit it, he's _dead_ already, Kakipii!"

It's Ken, his voice right next to Chikusa's ear. He stops moving his hands, realizing belatedly that there's blood smeared and wet along the skin there. All the water has made it more pink than crimson, a color nearly lost in the gloom. Chikusa stares at the sight, quiet, and that allows Ken plenty of time to let go of him and circle around. "About time! I was yelling at you for ages!" Before he can gear up into a proper rant, however, Ken pauses and squints his eyes at him. "...Kakipii?"

He needs to answer him. Chikusa knows this. It takes him a second, however, to remember how to speak. "Huh?" He sounds far away even to his own ears; who knows what Ken hears. It's enough to make the other boy frown, however, brow furrowed.

"...Are you okay?" The answering nod from Chikusa doesn't seem to convince him. As Chikusa watches, Ken fidgets and squirms in place. Whatever he's wondering or whatever he really wants to say, he can't seem to get it together. After a moment, Chikusa can see where he gives up as he glances back to... oh.

The body of the man is still there. They both stare at it as it floats there, ripples fluttering out from the water that has now been made a little more pink. There's more knife wounds than Chikusa remembers making, in more places than he remembers _seeing_.

Ken breaks the silence which has once more taken over the house. "It's... really _easy_ to kill someone, huh?"

Instead of a solid affirmative, all Chikusa can manage is a soft sound fluttering out of his throat, about as strong as a newborn bird. He agrees, of course, so why can't he say it? Speaking isn't hard. Sometimes he acts like it is, but it isn't, not really. While he ponders this mystery, Ken frowns again and seems to bristle from his head to his toes.

"You're acting weird!" he declares, grabbing Chikusa's hand. With no resistance, he drags Chikusa back to the stairs and up to the second floor. Lost in thought, Chikusa barely notices the journey. What draws his fascination is being able to observe how limp his body is in Ken's grip, putting one foot in front of the other by less thought and more automation. When he finally starts paying attention to everything else again, Ken has dragged him to a stop at the window they first entered through. Ken's hands on his shoulders push him down easily, knees folding neatly beneath Chikusa's body. The ease of it seems to disturb Ken, his jaw tense and his furrowed brows only pressed tighter together. "Okay... Okay, you, uh, you stay here! You stay here and organize all the food and stuff, and I'll bring the other stuff up! And if anybody else comes, we'll just run, 'cuz we got a lot already." He pauses, pursing his lips as he watches Chikusa expectantly. "...Okay?"

Talking goes smoother this time. "Okay," Chikusa echoes back, although the voice that leaves his mouth doesn't sound like his own. Still, just being talked to seems to reassure Ken. The way he's gone all bristle smooths out a bit. It doesn't stop him from constantly looking back over his shoulder at Chikusa constantly until he's finally gone through the doorframe and turned into the hall.

Organizing things, as it turns out, is a good way to keep his body occupied. Cans and jars and bottles all click against each other, glass against metal, sharp little noises which keep him focused on the world instead of drifting away. They're the only things keep him there. Well, them and Ken, who checks on Chikusa every time he brings an armful of stuff up.

In the end, no one comes. They don't have to make a run for it. With bags and packs bulging, him and Ken make their escape back down into the depths of Rudshore. There's no end to the glances Ken sends his way, whether crossing makeshift bridges or venturing through abandoned buildings, and Chikusa wishes he could make him _stop_. He wishes he could make himself stop whatever it is he's doing.

Yet it's nothing he knows how to control.

That point is driven home when they pass through the ruined remnants of a bedroom, once pristine glass blown through and reflecting a myriad of colors from the sunlight filtering through the open panes. Suddenly, there's... Chikusa abruptly comes to a stop, and Ken stops with him, tensing up. He can _feel_ him tensing up- his hand still slick in Chikusa's loose grip from humidity and the water they've traversed, the heartbeat still pulsing hotly at his palm, rows upon rows of calluses and a long jagged scratch across the joint of his thumb that presses up unevenly from his skin. From Ken's hand, up his arm and to his shoulder where the straps of the bags have dug in so much that the aches there are dangerously close to numbness. From his shoulder, up to his face-

There's a tackiness there.

He knows what it is.

The wail that rises up out of his throat leaves it tender and knocks all the energy out from his legs. Chikusa crumples to the ground, tears welling up in his eyes, and Ken trips over himself in his urgency to turn around. "Kakipii!"

Fumbling hands reach out to grasp one another, but Chikusa can't stop crying. He's _himself_ again, and everything he did wasn't just a bad dream. It was _real_. Things are _real_. What he did can't be taken back, and he squeezes Ken's hands desperately. Sobs wrack his body as Ken watches helplessly on.

"Kakipii, what's wrong, are you hurt, what happened, this isn't funny-!"

"They're _never_ going to come back for me now!" Chikusa wheezes. The words come out rough and wet like he's swallowed sand. "Never! I- I did something bad, I did the _worst_ -" All he can think about is when Overseers had come calling the last year. His parents have always held them in esteem, for as long as Chikusa can remember, and they've had them visit to be on the Abbey's good side. How many times has he had to sit patiently in front of a towering and masked figure, listening to words intoned to him? How many times had he patiently recited those same words back, all for a glimmer of attention from his parents' nods and praise from a masked stranger? He starts to babble them out, as if they can clean the sin from his hands. "R-Restrict restless hands, unfet-fettered by honest labor, they rush to _deeds of violence_ -" Tears are rushing down his face, pushed out by the sting behind his eyes. All he can see is that mask and that symbol. "What- what value a-are hands th-that steal and k-kill and-"

" _Shut up_!" Chikusa hiccups into silence, blinking away tears as Ken comes back into focus. It's hard to tell if it's the tears or just the natural state of all the red that's rushed up to Ken's face that makes his skin seem like a blotch of passionate color. "Shut up, Kakipii! He- he was gonna kill me! You heard what he was sayin'! You were protecting me! And, and, who _cares_ if they never come back for us!? I'll take care of you! I'll take care of you and protect you and everything! We don't need anyone! So shut up!" As Chikusa's vision clears a bit, it's easier to see how Ken's face has contorted into an expression of distress.

He hiccups again. "I'm... sorry..."

Ken snuffles, the sound like a small engine revving up. "You're so dumb."

"The Overseers..."

"I don't care! Their masks are dumb anyway."

They're a little scary, actually, in Chikusa's opinion, but he doesn't say that. He just squeezes Ken's hand. "...I didn't want him to kill you."

"Well, I didn't want to be killed either." Grunting, Ken gets up to his feet and pulls Chikusa up with him. "C'mon... It's gonna get dark soon. We gotta get home quicker." True enough, the sky is starting to settle into warmer colors than the wash of clear blue and serene white clouds. They barely make it in time back home, fumbling to get the ladder to open. Some stale bread and cider later, they turn off the lamp and curl against each other like they have for so many days now. Yet in the silence and darkness, Chikusa still can't fall asleep.

As it turns out, neither can Ken. He shifts in their blanket nest and his fingers knead Chikusa's shirt. It takes some time before he speaks. "...Hey, Kakipii."

"What?"

"...That guy said he was gonna feed me to the hagfish."

"...Yeah."

"...They'll eat anything, right?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I was just thinkin'... I mean, he's dead. So if he's still there tomorrow..."

"...That's gross, Ken."

"Yeah, well, it'd be bait, right? So we could get hagfish to eat." He wiggles against him. "...You don't have to come if you want."

Chikusa thinks about it, about being left alone again in the emptiness of the house, only himself and his breathing- his fingers dig into Ken's sides with more force than he means, without his input. "I'm coming."

For all that his fingers must hurt at least a little, Ken doesn't seem bothered. If anything, an undercurrent of relief runs in his voice when he answers. "Okay."

In the morning, they set off again.

The body is still there.

Getting it back home along with bags of whatever they had missed the first time is tough.

Chikusa tries not to think about it too much, even as Ken teaches him how to roast fish over the flame of an upper floor fireplace.

"Ken?"

Upstairs, the sun makes the house unbearably warm. For today, they've retreated down to the flooded floor. Some of the jars Chikusa keeps down here in the water, where they have at least a little protection against the heat and last a bit. He can only hope they do anyway. Today, however, isn't about the jars. It's him and Ken, wading in the water. Well, Chikusa is wading, keeping near the stairs. Ken has already swum all the way to touch the railings opposite of the stairs. At Chikusa's voice, he glances back.

"What?"

"I... don't know how."

"How what?"

"How to swim."

"Whaaaaaat?" Immediately, he starts to splash back. Chikusa raises a hand to shield his face from the water going everywhere. "How can you not know how to swim!?"

"It's not like anyone taught me," he grumbles back, frowning at Ken's wide teasing grin. "Not everyone just _knows_."

"I bet people totally just know." Ken stops making a mess as his feet find the stairs. "Alright, c'mon, I'll teach you how to float. Just lay back in the water and I'll hold you."

"You better not drop me..."

"I won't!" Ken huffs at him until he complies, turning around and trying to lay down like he would anywhere else. "No, c'mon- you're gotta spread your arms and legs out." Still, as Chikusa tries to get the hang of it, Ken does as he promised. His hands don't feel any hotter or warmer than the water they're in, and they're a comfort where they press along the plain of Chikusa's back. Laying there, it's simple to close his eyes and focus on nothing but the sound of Ken's breath and the calluses on his fingertips.

"Ken..."

"Okay, I think you got it-"

"No one's coming back for us, are they?"

Ken falls silent. Chikusa doesn't open his eyes to try and analyze the expression on his face. He keeps talking, voice soft.

"It's been over two months now. I've been counting the days. If they really wanted to find us, they'd have done it before now, right?"

"I guess..." He sounds reluctant to admit it, and Chikusa can practically feel his eyes focused on him and nothing else. He doesn't have to. Chikusa isn't going to cry this time, and he isn't going to 'leave' either. He simply takes a breath.

"We should go into the rest of the city."


	3. world's a beast of burden

Perhaps predictably, none of Chikusa's old clothes are suitable for going out into the general public.

This is according to Ken, who blows a raspberry at every single one that gets laid out. "They're not right," he says, crossing his arms as they sit in the third floor room where the sun filtering through the windows is better light than the ethereal glow of whale oil. "It's all too... _nice_."

Chikusa glances down at what he's spread out against the floor. None of it actually looks nice by his estimate. Before the flood, servants would painstakingly wash and iron everything, doing their best to make sure it looked nearly as good as new. That hasn't happened for _ages_ now. Actually, he can't even remember the last time they had a bath; he doubts wading through water all the time actually counts. His clothes, thus, have seen the wear of such a life. Some have holes. All of them are dirty. He's pretty sure some of the more expensive material has been ruined forever. Dubiously, he glances back at Ken and arches up an eyebrow.

"Y-You know what I mean!" He doesn't, actually, but it's kind of funny to watch brilliant red rush over Ken's skin as he gets flustered. When he doesn't say anything, Ken puffs out his cheeks and stomps his foot. "You can _tell_ it's supposed to be nice!"

Well, maybe he has something there. Chikusa crouches down by one of the button up shirts and picks at it. Appearance is everything. He knows that as well as anyone. It was why his parents had despaired at his growth spurts and how nothing ever actually stayed tailored to his frame for long. The way he was presented was more a reflection of them than himself. Even at this age, he's picked up on that. People he didn't really know would scrutinize his appearance, looking for any flaws to pick apart. Those kinds of people would notice immediately that these were once nice clothes. They'd have questions.

It hadn't really occurred to him that he'd have to worry about that with anyone else outside his family's acquaintances.

"I guess I get it," he answers at long last, and Ken practically melts with how quickly he eases up. He stops fidgeting in a heartbeat. "We have other clothes, so... We can try those, I guess."

As it turns out, it's not that easy. Going up to the attic and dumping clothes down the ladder is, of course, because anyone can do that. It's just... Chikusa's family had been rich. They lived in a rich neighborhood. So many piles that Chikusa dumps down, some more torn than others when they'd needed the extra cloth on its own, still get rejected by Ken's high- low?- standards. Chikusa is starting to think they'll _never_ find anything decent and never venture back into the rest of Dunwall when Ken calls up to him.

"Hey! This stuff looks okay!"

Hand gripping the edge of the opening, Chikusa squints down. Held up in triumphant fists are some dull brown pants and faded white shirts. They look way too big for him, to say nothing of _Ken_. "Are you _sure_?"

"Of course I'm sure!" Indignation tinges the edge of Ken's words. "You don't even know not-fancy clothes!"

"Ken, they don't look like they even fit!"

"They'll fit! Stupid Kakipii, I'll show you-"

"Ken, don't..." It's too late. Chikusa shakes his head as clothes start getting tugged off and flung throughout the room, all to the sound of Ken's grumbling. In the time it takes for him to carefully make his way down the ladder, his best friend's clothes are scattered who knows where in the mess they've already made and Ken is draped in a shirt three sizes too big for him. He practically looks like a _toddler_ instead of someone closer to eight. What really makes things hilarious, however, is how his upper lip is curled up in such a fierce pout that it squishes up against his nose.

"Shut up," Ken says sulkily.

"I didn't say anything." While he mopes, Chikusa comes closer to inspect the large shirt. It does seem like it's made out of a different material than the rest of their clothing... And honestly it seems a little more durable too. The problem is the obvious size difference. "Where did we get these?"

"Why do you think _I_ remember?"

Good point, he guesses. Ken doesn't usually remember little details like that and, frankly, Chikusa guesses it's telling that even he can't remember. They can remember how much of a thing a place still has- food or whale oil or broken pieces of wood- but the details are fuzzy. There's only so much time in the day for them to run through buildings, clear them out, and then get back before the sun sets and they're helplessly lost in the darkness. In fact, with the passage of time, their need to rush has only gotten more intense. That storm from months past had left lasting effects, and some buildings even now are still falling apart. You never know when the creaking of a house is natural or the telltale sign of disaster. It's more than enough to make Chikusa worry about how much longer they have in their own home, even if the stone seems to be holding up well.

He plucks at one of the sleeves, frowning. "Do you know how to sew?"

"Only my sisters know how to sew, dummy."

Ugh. Figures. Chikusa's mouth screws up and his nose wrinkles. "If one of us knew how to sew, I bet we could make this fit better..." If it's going to be the two of them taking care of each other, that's going to be one of many other things they have to learn, isn't it? Everything is suddenly overwhelming. All this time, he's only been thinking about food and their home. That's only _two_ things out of _so many_. Him and Ken are going to keep growing- they'll need new clothes. What if they get hurt? Really badly hurt? The things in his father's office aren't a lot. And there's no way they can stay here _forever_ , not with all the buildings in disrepair, and flooded, and infested-

"Kakipii?" Chikusa blinks out of his thoughts. Ken is staring at him, brows furrowed. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"You were..." Before he can explain, Ken shuts himself up and his mouth twists strangely. That's definitely weird. Ken never goes quiet. He just says whatever comes to mind. "It's dumb, nevermind! So what are we gonna do?"

Letting the weird moment go, Chikusa sighs. "I guess we're going to have to roll the sleeves up... Maybe that'll be enough." As it turns out, it's not great, but also not as bad as it could be. At his size, Ken is always going to look like the clothes they've found so far aren't enough and that's he's drowning in them. With a belt secured around his waist, he's 80% folds of cloth. Chikusa himself fairs a little better, but not by much. Ken's laughter rings out through the room as he fumbles to do up the buttons.

"You look dumb!"

"We _both_ look dumb," he grumbles. "Now come on. Put on your regular clothes and put those ones to the side. Let's see if we can find anything today and we'll go into town tomorrow."

Adding to his concerns, they don't really find much before they have to run back home, and Chikusa spends the whole night in the attic counting the things they have left. Ken literally has to drag him to their blankets to sleep. It's not a restful one. Not on Chikusa's end. At one point, he wakes up and opens the panel down into his parents' room, driven by a panic that the sun is already too far up. It's not up at all, and Ken has to drag him back again with success only given when he agrees to leave the panel open. By the time morning is actually there, both of them haven't slept well and Ken is grumpy.

"C'mon, _you're_ the one who was fussing all night!" Ken yells up the ladder as Chikusa stumbles over to it. He squints as he makes his way down, eyeing the way Chikusa has one fist determinedly curled up. "What's that?"

"Nothing." Chikusa grabs him and tugs Ken along. "C'mon. We don't know how long it'll take us to get into Dunwall anymore."

As it turns out, it takes approximately an hour of constant travel to get to parts where the water isn't in their every step. Chikusa can't help but notice how different even a little thing like that is. He's too used, now, to having to slog through water, or muffle his footsteps on carpet and wood. The sound, the _feel_ , of stone beneath his feet is so different. Unlike slowly rotting wood, it won't give out under his feet. It's _steady_. Adding in the buildings that tower around them, and traversing the streets makes him feel so _tiny_. He grips Ken's hand tight as they walk together, arms brushing. It's as he's in the middle of staring up at the buildings that Ken jerks his hand. Hurrying over up a set of steps and huddling against a battered door they find there, Chikusa strains his hearing. Distantly, he can hear the sharp click of boots on stone. Ken's back presses up back into his ribs.

Voices. Gruff, matching the authoritative click of heels. "This whole place is still a rotten mess. Months! What're all those fancy nobles doin' about it?"

"What, you think they're going to spend time on this mess of a place when there's actually _fixable_ districts to work on first? Hear about Slaughterhouse Row? They only got it patched up decent-like last month. That's _with_ all of Rothwild's pushin'."

"Yeesh. You hear if they'ved moved stuff out of Holger Square yet?"

"Started doin' it last week. Probably goin' to take the rest of the month before they're done. Still, lucky bastards. Overseers these days don't handle stone like they used to, I guess."

As Chikusa and Ken watch, a pair of City Watch pass by the doorway. Chikusa holds his breath, praying desperately in his head for invisibility. It doesn't work. For one thing, invisibility is impossible. For another, in that moment, one of the guards looks up and surprise coats his face only to be quickly replaced by a firm scowl. "Hey! What are you kids doing!?"

Ken bristles up against him, and Chikusa quickly nudges him sharply in the spine. "Ken, _stop_!" Reluctantly, the two of them shuffle out of the doorway and into the street. It's almost impossible to walk without tripping over Ken's own feet as the other boy keeps shoving in front of him. Chikusa can easily imagine the scowl on his face when he looks up at the guards. Then again, maybe he can't judge. As they stop in front of the two men, Chikusa is more than sticking to Ken's side. Biting back the urge to fidget, his gaze flickers up at them uncertainly. One of the guards is still scowling, arms crossed over his broad chest. The other, however, only has his hand on his hip. Exasperated, maybe, but not upset or angry.

It shows in his tone when he finally speaks up. "You two haven't playing around in _this_ dump, have you?"

Hastily, Chikusa answers before Ken can open his dumb mouth and pick a fight. "We were just exploring." Not even a lie. They _are_ exploring... outside of the district. Digging his fingers into the back of Ken's shirt, Chikusa glances down at him. Yup, as he feared- he's having a glaring contest with the guard who initially saw them. Chikusa tugs at his shirt to make him stop. "We're... We're not in trouble, are we?"

"We outta drag you by the ears to your parents, show you some trouble-" The horrified look on Chikusa's face must be something, because the second guard sighs and waves his partner's temper down.

"It's just a pair of dumb kids getting into places they shouldn't. It's not half the trouble it'd take to get them to their parents." He looks back down to them. "But kids like you shouldn't be running around here. There's gangs and rats and all that kind of garbage lurking around here. C'mon- let's drag you back out of here before you get yourselves hurt."

Both guards start to herd them along, nudging the pair back down from whence the men had come. It's _horrifying_. Heart lodged in his throat, Chikusa clings hard to Ken and obeys mutely. Never before has he had to deal with City Watch guards. _Never_. They'd been distant figures of authority, sharply dressed and standing tall, patrolling the streets with long strides only sometimes as Chikusa watched from the windows of home. Now, here on the ground, they seem strikingly different, and he can't tell if it's because of rosy memories or simple fact. So close, a bitter smell from one of the guards bites through Chikusa's nostrils, and even a worried glance back at the nicer of the two shows that his uniform is all wrinkled. An iron probably hasn't touched it in months. Against all odds, this only makes them _scarier_. Even when he tries to stop himself, Chikusa can't help looking at the heavy swords that bounce against each hip. Harder, and harder, his heart throbs. This was a mistake. This _is_ a mistake. He never should have suggested coming out. Darkness is prickling at the edges of his vision, nothing feels right, everything is too light-

Warmth wraps around his wrist, callouses scraping against thin skin stretched over bone, and Chikusa blinks. Ken is still sending shady looks to the guard that threatened them, but it's his fingers that are holding onto him. Like that time months ago, something about it drips deep into Chikusa- down to the very bone. He breathes. He's back on solid ground again instead of his mind stuck in the sensation of floating away from his body. From that point on, he tries not to look behind him. All he lets his eyes focus on are Ken's fingers, mooring him to the street.

Soon, however, new distractions start to filter from between the buildings and past the many roofs. First come the smells: the usual ever present salt invaded by smoke that weighs heavy in his lungs, rotting fish ten times the quantity of what he's used to in Rudshore, and the same kind of bitter smell that's coming from one of the guards. It takes a moment for Chikusa to finally recognize that's _alcohol_. Sound soon joins the smells, chatter and wheels on stone and _noise_ all mixing together. It's overwhelming even before they turn onto a street and find _people_.

There's no time for him to be caught up in the disorientation of it all. A harsh nudge into his back has him and Ken stumbling forward. "Hey!" Ken shouts indignantly, glaring around Chikusa's lanky frame.

"We better not see stray rats like you running around here again!" snaps the first guard, already twisting away on his heel and grumbling off. His partner stays behind, his eye roll visible beneath the shadows of his helmet.

"Keep out of trouble, alright? Or you'll have to deal with him in a worse mood, and get a hiding from your parents too."

"Yessir," Chikusa says quietly. The level of noise all around him makes it feel like his voice has gotten lost in it, but the guard seems to have heard him. He gives an approving nod before turning away to follow after his partner.

Like the fight starting idiot he's always been, Ken is standing there with his fists balled at his sides and glaring right after the guards. It takes Chikusa, panicking and unable to hide his shaking, to drag him away off to the side. If nothing else, they can be away from the small side street that the guards dragged them through. "Stop that!" he hisses, terrified. So much could have gone wrong there. Fighting some guy breaking into houses was one thing. Going against _guards_? Chikusa breathing picks up, and Ken stops his snitty looks towards the street to whip a concerned look at him.

"Kakipii-"

"Just... stop it." He stops in the stairs of a nearby building, something that looks a bit like an apartment of some sort. Before them, the street is bustling with activity, and it's dizzying. There's too much. Too much people, too much noise, too much _fear_. Regret still has him in a chokehold, and Chikusa bows his head as Ken presses closer. He can already feel himself wanting to float away again. Frankly, if he was alone, Chikusa thinks he would have. However, Ken's warmth is still there, and so Chikusa is still there too. He doesn't know how long it takes, but soon enough his breathing goes back to normal. Swallowing thickly, he looks up into those bright eyes again. "Ken... While we're out here... What if someone finds out about everything?" Biting his lip, he glances back into the street and lowers his voice more. "About how we live on our own? Kids aren't supposed to live without their parents. What if they take us to an orphanage?" Something worse occurs to him. Swallowing, Chikusa digs his fingers against Ken's hand. "What if the Overseers take us?"

As though burned, Ken recoils. "I don't wanna!"

"Then _promise_ me. Promise me that we'll act good while we're away from home. Okay?"

While Ken's nod is slow, it isn't reluctant, and Chikusa finds himself relaxing. "I promise." With that said, Ken looks into the street and Chikusa follows his gaze. The lapping of waves against the earth is not too far off, even if neither of them can see it, but they don't need to. For all the chaotic symphony of noises, they're attuned to water now. If Chikusa had to guess, he'd point to the large sprawling building taking up most of the street. A tower rises up from behind it, and the words _The Hounds Pit Pub_ are written above its many windows. As he's looking, Ken shuffles in place. "Hey Kakipii... What are we gonna _do_ now that we're out here?"

It's only taken him long enough to ask. Chikusa glances up and down the street. "Do you know where we are?"

"Oh, yeah! My family used to go through here all the time. It's the Old Port District."

"And, um... Is there a place or something where you can go sell things? Like, little things?"

"What, like, a pawnshop?" Ken quirks his head to the side, quick and sharp. "Why do you wanna go to a place like that? It's not like I brought any stuff to sell... Not that we have anything to sell either way." His tongue swipes across his lips. Chikusa could swear it brushes the bottom of his nose. "All our stuff is kinda junky. I mean, we could go back to get some stuff, but we probably wouldn't get a lot for it. And pawnshops don't accept fish... I think."

"It's not important. Is there one around?"

"I think... Probably? I'm pretty sure there is." Scratching behind his ear, Ken glances around. His gaze looks past all the people filling the street and hurrying out of buildings, focusing on the buildings themselves. "It's been a long time. I'm probably gonna have to look around and stuff." Chikusa doesn't think, just squeezes down. In turn, Ken doesn't say anything, he simply squeezes back before pulling him along. "Well, it's not like we got anything to do anyway! C'mon, Kakipii."

It's a good thing that even after all this time, Ken is still used to the busy city streets. Letting him take the wheel in this venture is for the best because all Chikusa can do is _stare_. On one hand, the stone buildings of Dunwall don't seem so monstrous when they're offset by streets filled to bursting with people. Even before it had become a ruined mess, Chikusa doesn't think he had ever seen the streets of his home district filled with so many bodies. However, in exchange for all of this, it's _suffocating_ to be in the throng itself. Bodies press in from all sides, chatter and a sea of footsteps deafen him- if not for Ken, he'd be frozen to the spot at it all. Yet his best friend doesn't seem to have a single hint of difficulty. He slips around and inbetween people flawlessly, agile as the hagfish of their flooded home twisting through wreckage. When Chikusa can stop being overwhelmed, he's admiring instead. They've kept up with each other back home, but in this... He feels outclassed, only able to watch and be carried along.

So lost in thought, he misses when Ken comes to a stop and stumbles against him. "Ow, hey!" comes the grumble, although Ken only sounds half upset as they straighten up together. "Anyway, this is it." He points up at the building in front of him. Compared to every other building that's on the street, the pawnshop doesn't particularly stand out to Chikusa's eye. Like a few other businesses he vaguely recalls seeing in his daze, large windows make up the majority of the storefront. Past the grimy glass, a few items have been set up in display: a mannequin trying on a worn suit, a broad woman's sunhat missing some decorations, a variety of lamps that had lost their shine... or maybe that was merely all the dirt and salt which have made the window panes their home.

Everything is still so distant; Chikusa doesn't even realize he's been kneading at Ken's hand until he looks down by coincidence. Maybe Ken can tell that something is wrong, because he moves again until they're right up at the windows where the worst of the human tide can pass them by. Shamelessly, he presses his nose literally up against the glass.

Funny how _that_ is the thing that helps snap Chikusa out of it. "Ken, stop it, that's gross."

"There's so much junk in there!" he exclaims, ignoring Chikusa completely. "There's even more stuff than what _we_ got back home!"

"How can you even tell?" Doing his best not to touch the glass, Chikusa steps closer as well to peer deeper inside. Ken isn't lying, really. Even in the gloom, behind the window displays, there's the feeling of clutter that starts up an itch in the back of his skull. All the details are lost to gloom and window dirt. Nervously, he licks at his lips.

"You can just tell! Stupid Kakipii." Ken's gaze flickers over to him curiously. "...Are we gonna go inside?"

"Yeah."

"They're just gonna kick us out 'cuz we're dirt poor and stuff."

"No they won't." For all his bold words, however, Chikusa doesn't make a move inside. Everything is still too much. So he stands there and tries his best to focus on Ken: the warmth of his hands, the well worn callouses that cover every inch of his palm, a beat he thinks might be either Ken's heart or his own. From there, he moves to his hand. Then up to his wrist, through his arm, his chest and the thud of his heart and the pressure of his lungs... Chikusa remembers his body again. It probably takes a few minutes although he's not keeping track of the time so much as how Ken starts to fidget and twitch impatiently. Taking a breath, Chikusa tugs him along. "Come on. Let's go in."

What meager calm he's gathered doesn't really help him from jolting at the ringing which sounds off above their heads when they open the door. Across the room, a man with a face full of lines (scars or wrinkles, Chikusa can't tell) emerges from some mysterious back room to take up station at the counter. It's hard to say who is carting the more suspicious look: the man who squints as if he can see straight through them so long as he does it hard enough or Ken who has his "authority is dumb and piss on it" expression set in full stubborn glory. If they mess around for too long, he's _absolutely_ going to get into a fight with the pawnshop person. Fear of that has Chikusa hurry them up to the counter. All he wants is for this to be over and done with.

"No dallyin' about," the man grumbles, eyeing both of them still with clear distrust.

Ken already has his mouth half open, ready to shoot something out, so Chikusa hastily stutters out, "We have something to sell!" Caught by surprise, Ken goes silent, and that's enough time for Chikusa to pull out a glimmering silver ring out from his pocket.

Blatant suspicion fills every single line of the man's face as he plucks the ring from Chikusa's outstretched hand. So much distrust in a single face- if each line were a soldier, he'd have enough for an army. Anxiously, he watches as the ring is held up to what meager light shines through in careful inspection. Anxiety is swapped out for bewilderment as the man then bites into it. What? Before Chikusa can even think to ask about _why_ \- although he's far too quiet to actually do it- the man places the ring down on the counter.

"Ten coin for it."

Chikusa jolts. "What?" comes out of his mouth, soft and unsure, drowned out by Ken's shout of "You're cheatin' us!"

"I ain't cheatin' anybody. I'm just not trustin' a pair of little thieves-"

"Kakipii _ain't_ a thief, you take that back-"

"It's worth more than that!" Chikusa says, hand shaking in Ken's as he's forced to raise his voice. "I _know_ it's worth more than that." In the back of his head, he's thinking _it has to be_ but he doesn't say that. Something about the whole situation has him feel that being too honest would be a mistake.

The outburst doesn't seem to impress the pawnbroker. All he does is cross his arms, gaze piercing through them just like he'd stared at the ring. Besides Chikusa, Ken feels as though the only thing holding him back from leaping over the counter and starting a fight is _literally_ Chikusa's hand in his. It's scary how he can feel the adrenaline making him shake. Finally, the pawnbroker snorts. "Twenty five coin, then, and if you try to start anythin' more over it, I'll get the City Guard in here and I bet _they'll_ figure out if yer thieves or not."

A sabre and the thick scent of alcohol hanging heavy in the air- Chikusa remembers it clear as anything. All the remembered terror strikes straight through him, and he's nodding before Ken can ruin anything. "Okay!" he agrees, voice tight and breaking. It's not okay. Not really. But Chikusa doesn't dare voice that thought. All he can do is wait until the coins have been counted out onto the counter. Without hesitation, he grabs them and runs. As they hurry out of the pawn shop, he can see Ken making faces over their shoulders. The sun is blinding compared to the gloom inside; it leaves Chikusa half blind in his attempts to go back the way they first came.

Behind him, he can hear Ken snarling and grumbling. "If it weren't for the Watch, I bet he wouldn't be _half_ as much of a jerk, I woulda been able to take him, I bet he doesn't even know how to fight, just knows how to steal money out of people, and he calls _us_ thieves! He's a dirty, no good-"

Chikusa is only half paying him mind. All he focuses on is finding a stoop to collapse in, curling in on himself with the coin digging into his palms. Immediately, Ken is down besides him.

Only a minute or two passes before Ken breaks the silence between them, curiosity bubbling over what little restraint he has. "Hey, Kakipii, where _did_ you get that ring?" How like Ken. He has no idea where it was gotten, but he was still ready to haul himself over a counter to punch an adult because he'd accused Chikusa of theft. Licking his lips as his heart calms down, he finally starts to count the coins in his hand.

"It's from the jewelry box," he mutters, low, but he knows that Ken has heard it because he can see him jerk upright from the corner of his eye.

"Wait- your _ma's_ jewelry box?"

"Yeah." Relieved that they were given the money the man at least said he'd give them, Chikusa tucks them into a pouch and into his pocket. When he looks up at Ken, the other boy seems to be struggling with his words- brow scrunched up and mouth moving noiselessly.

"But... It's your ma's jewelry," he finally manages weakly, clearly not knowing what else to say. "You're _always_ fussing over that for when she'd come back. Always!"

It's not even an exaggeration. More nights than Chikusa has bothered to keep track of have involved him carefully shifting through the glimmering gold and shining silver, making sure not a single ring of necklace is missing. As though anyone would be so subtle as to only steal only one of those out of everything else in their little attic home. Silly, but Chikusa has made it a habit. Drawing his knees up to his chest, Chikusa wraps his arms around them. "If she wanted it back," he mutters into his pants, "then she would have come back for it by now. She would have sent someone. She hasn't. So... It's mine now. I've _inherited_ it. That means I can do whatever I want with it. So if I want to sell stuff from it, I can." Frowning, he burrows his face against his legs. "...Didn't get a lot from it..."

Ken's warmth presses down against his side. "That guy was a cock! Next time, I'll find a different pawnbroker, a _nicer_ one, and we'll get more money!"

Chikusa hopes so. He's not sure how much 25 coin will really get them. Still, he guesses there's one way to find out. Peeking away from his legs, he asks, "How do we get back to where we came from?"

"Oh, that's easy, c'mon." Ken takes his hand again, and off they dive into the waves of people once more. This time, Chikusa tries to focus in on himself and pay attention to the streets. There's still too many _people_ , towering over him and Ken, but occasionally he gets a glimpse of a notable shop front or a street name. Soon- sooner than Chikusa expected- they're back at the little side street leading back home. He tugs Ken to a stop before he can go down it, leading him instead across the street where the pub stands. Ken cranes his head back, squinting at the name emblazoned over the doors. "Why are we comin' here?"

"Why do you think?" He doesn't give Ken a chance to answer, pushing open the door and tentatively stepping inside. Like the pawnshop, the pub is dimly lit, but the difference is in how _comforting_ it feels. Warm glass lets sunlight filter through in relaxing colors, and what seems like a skylight from behind the bar highlights it as well as any beacon. It's nowhere near as full as the streets outside, to Chikusa's surprise. Only a couple of the booths are filled from what he can see at the entranceway, and a handful of burly men are scattered along the bar stools.

As him and Ken stand there, a woman from behind the bar wearing an apron tied tight around her waist takes notice of them. The deep lines on her brow ease up as she comes over, stopping before them and leaning down a bit. "Alright, you two, looking for your pa over at the bar?"

Is that a regular thing? Chikusa wonders on it, even as he shakes his head. "We... we wanted to eat here."

"Well, sorry kid, but we can't serve you on your own without your ma or pa in here with you. Watch doesn't want kids your age anywhere near the booze."

"But-!" He glances to Ken, who can't seem to decide if he wants to frown in confusion at Chikusa or glare defiantly at the woman. All it's doing is making him look mostly constipated. Biting his lip, Chikusa looks up at her again. "What if... we didn't eat _in_ here, but outside, somewhere? Would it be alright then? Please? We have money..."

Straightening up with her hands on her hips, the woman glances down at them and Chikusa can't make heads or tails of her expression. Not knowing is _worse_ then any actual glare. At least with a glare, he can prepare himself. Right now, all he can do is wait, and Chikusa can feel his heart start to freeze up from its place in his chest. She's going to refuse. She's going to say no and he'll feel bad for making Ken do all this dragging him around and- "Ah, fine. I guess it can't hurt. C'mon, you two can sit in the back. Just don't cause any trouble." With that, she turns around, gesturing fluidly with one hand for them to follow after her. Feeling dazed, Chikusa moves along with Ken and barely remembers to look around to see what the menu for this place even is.

To the back of the pub, through a door and down a tiny hall, and they come out to the small stretch of land that makes up the area behind the pub. It's the most open area Chikusa thinks he's ever seen, and there's actual dirt instead of stone or concrete. Right ahead of them is the sea, its connection to the pub taking the form of a tiny little dock. To the right is a large building with a tower and far to the left lies some sort of warehouse. Chikusa thinks he can hear the sound of dogs.

The woman gestures to the dirt right besides the door, and Chikusa drags Ken over to obediently sit down. As Ken sprawls his legs out and leans against the wall, Chikusa tucks his beneath his body and looks up to her as she starts to speak. "So any idea of what you two want to eat, or do you need me to tell you the menu?"

"I know." Chikusa folds his hands together on his lap, forcing himself not to fidget. "There's... grilled whale, right?"

One of her eyebrows quirk up. "Sure is. But that's fifteen coin, you know."

"We have it! And we'll split one." Going through his pockets, he carefully counts out the proper amount with Ken leaning against his shoulder watching. Once he's certain he's got the right amount of coins, he holds it up to her almost pleadingly. Her hand is warm and calloused as she picks the coins out from his palm, counting them out herself before nodding.

"I guess you do," she admits, tucking the coin into a pouch on her apron. "Alright, you two stay _right_ there, got it? I'll bring it out to you in a bit." Leaving the back door open, she disappears back inside, and Chikusa lets out a breath that feels like he's been holding it for years. All he wants to do is sit there, letting feeling reach his brain again, but then Ken is nudging his shoulder with his chin.

"Hey, Kakipii?"

"What?"

Ken's nose scrunches up. "I thought you'd want to save that money and stuff... But that's, what, half of it gone?"

"I thought about it... But, it seems important to spend it soon, especially while the weather is still nice..."

"How come?"

"Ken, don't you know what day it's going to be soon...?" A blank look in response. Chikusa sighs. "It's going to be your birthday."

So close, it's easy to see how Ken's eyes widen and feel the tremor that shakes through his body. He's expecting _some_ sort of wiggle session, but not the way Ken flings himself against his body excitedly. Chikusa warbles out a noise of surprise, throwing his hands out to catch him before he hits the ground. He can barely acknowledge what's happened before Ken pushes away to dash off into the rest of the yard. Befuddled, Chikusa can only stare after him as his best friend goes tearing through dirt and meager sprouts of grass with the occasional kick or punch in the air. He has no idea _where_ he can get so much energy, not with the food they usually eat, and not for... well. He's not sure how long Ken runs around, almost falling off the concrete dock more than once, but it's long enough. A throat clears itself to his right, and Chikusa glances up into the eyes of the server woman from before.

"I thought I said to sit right there?" she says, fortunately looking more amused than annoyed.

"...He's really excited for whale?" Chikusa offers, wondering if he sounds as confused as he feels.

"Well, he should get excited back over here. If the hounds keep hearing him, they're going to excited and one might break out."

Chikusa jolts in place, immediately cupping his hands around his mouth. "KEN! Get back here!"

Thankfully, the lure of food is always the most successful thing in getting Ken's attention. Soon enough, he's back by Chikusa's side watching as he carefully splits the whale meat into two even parts. In the open air, the bustle of people now comforting background noise instead of a tidal wave, it feels... _nice_ to sit there and eat with Ken. They keep exchanging smiles with each other, Ken's full of food at any given time, but Chikusa doesn't mind. He can't get himself to. Even when the plate is cleaned off, all they do is sit there with each other as boats drift by in the distance. Ken rests his head against Chikusa's shoulder at some point, loose and relaxed, and he nuzzles back into that sunshine warmed hair. So nice... Chikusa thinks they could probably stay there forever, so long as they were quiet and didn't bother the server woman. At least, he wants to do that. In the moment, it seems like the perfect thing to do.

But that sort of thing isn't possible. Chikusa knows tht. So, after maybe an hour of staying there quietly, he nudges Ken with his shoulder. "We gotta go home now," he tells him over the sound of Ken's yawn. "If we take too long, it'll get dark."

"Wanted to sleep a little longer..."

"You can sleep when we get home."

Reluctantly, Ken lets himself be pulled up, and the pair of them duck back into the pub. The server woman is still working, and she shoos them away with an idle flap of her hand when Chikusa nods his head politely to her. They stop at the door, peering out, and he can feel Ken perk up at his side. Across the road, a certain familiar pair of uniformed figures have exited their little side street. With bated breath, they watch until the Watch guards disappear into the crowd- far away from their way home. Without wasting anytime, they hurry out and duck around traffic. When they make it down the side street with no one shouting after them, Chikusa lets out a breath.

Now it's a clear way to home.

That's what Chikusa thinks for around ten minutes as the pair of them idly walk down the street, their joined hands swinging. Soon, however, Ken frowns and glances over their shoulders. Immediately, his eyes narrow and his lips curl up past over his teeth, which is all Chikusa needs to look behind them too. There's _people_ a distance away behind them- _following_ them. As him and Ken come to a stop, he realizes that it's their footsteps that Ken must have heard echoing through the street. There's no fearsome blue apparent even from this distance and, as they get closer, Chikusa realizes that they're not adults. They're _teenagers_ , a trio, with an arrogant and unworried swagger in their walk. If not for the alarm bells going off in his mind and the desertion of the abandoned street in comparison to the busting road they were just on not that long ago, Chikusa would almost think they were here by coincidence.

"Who're you!?" Ken snaps out, once they're close enough to hear. He's all tension and barely contained fight; Chikusa can feel the adrenaline thrumming through his hand.

One of the teenagers coolly raises an eyebrow down at them, rolling something in his mouth with such noisy chews that it makes Chikusa twitch. Dirt is smeared along his hands and stains the cuffs of his shirt, something he can see as he watches the teenager inspects his nails that are as grimy as the rest of him. Distantly, he thinks he remembers actions like these. It's the same sort of gestures he'd see some people make in his father's office while talking about important business. The words had always gone over his head, but his father had never seemed particularly impressed. Now that the same gesture is being used against him, Chikusa thinks he can guess why. "Now, that any way ta talk ta yer betters, small fry?"

"I've met hagfish crap that's-"

Chikusa tugs Ken back, his lips drawn thin and his hands shaking. "What do you want?" he asks instead, since he doubts they'll get names out of these guys and, really, does it matter anyway?

"Just wanted to ask a few questions, four eyes."

"Like what?"

"Like where ya got that bit of silver ya sold to that guy at the pawnshop."

Both of them go tense. Ken's nails, always too overgrown, dig into the back of Chikusa's knuckles. "Ain't none of your business," Ken says stubbornly, baring his teeth and sticking his tongue out between them. "So shove off!"

"What'd I say about talkin' ta yer betters? Ya want me ta get yer skinny little friend there and make an example outta him?"

"Don't you threaten him-!" Ken tears out of Chikusa's grip before he can stop him, flinging his whole body straight into the older boy's kneecaps. His heart leaps into his throat as he watches the two of them go slamming into the ground- no one is _actually_ prepared for how much of his body Ken is 100% ready to throw at others. Even the two other teenagers can only gape in shock. However, it doesn't take long before one of them realizes that their leader is yelling and Ken has bitten past the skin. All eyes are off of Chikusa as Ken is torn from trying to tear out someone's throat with his teeth. "Lemme go, I'm going to kill you-!" But they're all empty threats as one of the other teenagers lifts him up off his feet with his arms pinned.

Wiping at his face and scowling, the lead-teenager gets up to his feet. "Ya damn little shit, I'm gonna make ya _regret_ that-"

A palm sized rock sails straight into his right eye.

He stumbles back at clutching at his face and swearing, leaving his friends to stare in shock at the gash which has been cut over his eyebrow. This leaves plenty of time for Chikusa to chuck another rock at the vulnerable head of the person holding up Ken. There's not a lot to do when you live in Rudshore anymore, even with what him and Ken have salvaged. Sometimes, all you have to do to pass the time is throwing things at other things: rocks, wood, bones, fish heads.

Chikusa has gotten really good at it.

His rock hits the older boy's temple dead on.

He stumbles to the side, grip loosening, and it's enough for Ken to swing his leg in a vicious kick back to make him drop him completely. Landing in a crouch, he darts to the side quicker than a hare. The last teenager who tries to lung at him doesn't have a hope. After that, Chikusa can't tell _what_ is going on, only that it's a blur of movement and his ears ache from all the swearing. His fingers are curled uncertainly around another rock, but he doesn't need to worry. From the chaos, Ken bursts out with dirt on his face and what looks like blood smeared on the corner of his mouth. There's no time to ascertain if it's _Ken's_ blood or not; the blond grabs his hand and jerks him away. Swears and threats echo throughout the empty street, but Chikusa doesn't look back. His gaze stays focused to wherever Ken is leading them, and his grip stays locked around Ken's hand.

All too soon, however, the storming of feet behind them makes it known that this isn't just an escape but a _chase_. What a blessing it is that they've lived here in this ruin of a district for so long. There's no need for them to falter, unsure, at where to go. Even on the dryer parts of land, they've memorized every bit of Rudshore's fallen glory and engraved it onto their hearts. The streets, the routes over water, all of it- Chikusa doesn't have to think about it. Not with Ken at the helm. All he has to do is pump his legs as fast as he can, heart pounding in his ears. When Ken pulls him to a familiar building with a busted window, he doesn't think twice. Automatically, he lets go of Ken's hand so that the other can leap up and haul himself through the window before offering his own hand to help Chikusa up. He tumbles inside at Ken's pull, barely aware of the hand swiping at his pants leg. They're right behind them- scrambling to his feet, Chikusa takes Ken's hand again as they rush through the first floor rooms and up the stairs. The sound of glass breaking follows them.

Up the stairs, twist around, race down the hallway- there, a window with a splintered mess of wood acting as a bridge. Chikusa and Ken nearly fly over it, stopping only to jerk it back onto the floor. He can already tell it's not going to work even as they dash through the building to the opposite side. Their short legs couldn't make that jump, but the longer legs of those other boys, they won't have any problem at all. The thought beats through his mind in time with his frantic heart and the pounding of his feet. Another window, another leap, another building that their frantic feet carry them through. Repeat once, repeat again, again, again, until Ken is hissing at him, "This way!" Chikusa follows, even when Ken leads him down onto the fist floor and water laps at their ankles. In sync, the pair of them splash through the first floor searching, and it's him who tugs Ken into one room in particular. Everything that could be picked up and carried out obviously has been, leaving it a place devoid of most hiding spots... save for the large fireplace whose contents can't be seen from the doorway. They're skinny and small enough to squeeze into the space, heads and knees bumping. Uncomfortable, but safe.

Hopefully.

Somewhere in the distance, weak wood creaks, and Chikusa holds his breath sharply. House settling. It's the house settling. But he doesn't really believe that, and he can tell Ken doesn't either when the other boy curls his fingers by his chest. Now that they're so close, he can see specks of crimson under and along his nails.

Heavy thuds from the floor above steal his mind away from such thoughts, and Chikusa jolts against Ken. Two more heavy thuds follow it. For all that him and Ken stay utterly silent, it's impossible to tell anything other than the general area that the footsteps are coming from. All they can do is sit, silent and still and hoping. For who knows how long, they stay together like that. Muffled words bound off the walls above the ceiling, indistinct. The only thing that becomes clear is when the stairs creak and Chikusa finds his eyes stinging with frustrated, frightened tears.

 _Why_? Why can't they be left alone, why can't those guys leave, why is the sound of footsteps going down the stairs? Chikusa's thoughts race helplessly. They can't have searched each building before this so thoroughly, right? What about this place is different? Did they drop something? In other rooms, water splashes as bodies lumber through and there's indistinct angered muttering that Chikusa is too out of sorts to comprehend. Across from him, Ken is tense and waiting, ready for anything-

"HEY!" They jolt, but the voice isn't from inside the room with them. It's right outside, so far as Chikusa can tell, and its owner continues on. "Are ya with those brats that tore through here?!"

"Mmm~?" A low relaxed voice rolls out and Chikusa exchanges a surprised glance with Ken. Confirming their silent suspicions, the voice keeps going. "Now what makes you think I know anything about that?" With actual words, there's no doubt about it. That's a _child's_ voice, like him or Ken. Not a teenager like the other boys, and definitely not an adult for all the voice's cool confidence.

"What- are ya mocking me ya piece of garbage!? Come here-" Chikusa's heart leaps in his throat at the sound of angered splashes moving past their door, expecting shouts and violence and the guilty thought of _at least it's not us_ -

But the scream that reverberates through the doorway from the hall isn't the one he expects.

More splashes from presumably the other two boys, concerned and enraged shouts, a chaotic clamor of noise, yet past it all Chikusa can still hear that voice _hiss_ , all venom. "Who said you could _touch_ me?"

He's never heard a voice like that, never realized people could _sound_ like that. For all that they're crouching in water, icy coldness sinking past their pants, Chikusa's mouth goes dry. Ken is the same, from what Chikusa can tell, with even his sun-kissed skin having gone pale and his eyes wide. He doesn't shrug off Chikusa when he reaches over to cling to his shirt, pressing close against him as the yelling and the splashing keeps going. Soon, however, the sounds grow distant and soon become the stomping of many feet upstairs. They're still yelling- Chikusa can't quite make out what. Eventually the footsteps are gone completely. Together, they hold their breath, and that lets them hear the only sound left in the empty building: a soft panting and a steady drip down into the water.

After a minute of only those two sounds, the person who's been left behind starts to move. Ken and Chikusa listen as it only goes a short distance before the voice speaks from the doorway. "You're around here, right?" The relaxed lilt is back in full force, no venom and all confidence. "I heard you earlier, before those boys came. It's fine. I don't care about hurting you."

Uncertainty is flickering through Ken's eyes, and Chikusa doesn't doubt that the look on his face is just as bad. Still, what other choice do they have? They can't stay in the fireplace _forever_. Ken bursts out first, knee banging into Chikusa's legs and his fingers curved into ready claws as he draws himself up. Chikusa is slower, save for the quick look he makes around the fireplace before getting up to his feet. He doesn't know what to do with his hands, so they wait at his side in the form of uncertain fists.

Chikusa was right. It _is_ a boy standing there at the doorway, shoulders loose and a knife held between relaxed but bloody fingers. Pink smears are along one cheek, a half hearted attempt at cleaning the blood, and it's strangely enough _not_ the most striking thing about him. That would be his eyes, one a deep dark blue and the other a surprising brown-ish sort of color. At least, Chikusa thinks it's brown. It's hard to tell in the dim lighting. As they look over him, the boy looks over them too before he reaches up with his free hand to brush black hair away from his face.

"Oh," he says in easy going surprise, "you're the same age as me."

"So what?" Ken snaps, frame quietly vibrating with nervous energy. In contrast, Chikusa shrinks behind him with his gaze constantly flicking down to that blade. As he watches, a drop of blood trembles at the very tip before plopping down into the water.

"Oh, it's nothing, I guess." Completely unconcerned, the other boy crouches down in the water and swishes the knife through it. Ripples of pink leave the blade. "I shouldn't be surprised. Those louts that fled here _were_ talking about a pair of kids. No wonder they thought I was with you. So what did you do?" Straightening up and flicking water off of the blade lazily, he sweeps his eyes over them. His sharp gaze lingers on Ken and a knowing little grin settles on his face. "Bite them?"

Ken jolts straighter; Chikusa doesn't need to see it to know that he's wearing a look of amazement. "How'd you know!?"

Sighing, Chikusa nudges Ken back with his knuckles. "There's still blood on your mouth, Ken..."

While Ken's ears start to turn a brilliant shade of pink, the other boy laughs. It's so carefree and _normal_. If not for the blood still drying on his skin and the knife in his hand, Chikusa would never think he'd be capable of chasing off three teenagers twice his size. "It _was_ a little telltale." Canting his head to the side, he hums. "Why did you do it?"

Straightening up, Ken squares his shoulders. "They deserved it," is all he says, like that explains anything.

At least the answer seems to please the strange boy because he laughs again. "Definitely," he agrees, despite not knowing anything of the situation. "What are your names?"

Chikusa licks his lips. Should they tell? This is the first time anyone's ever asked. But then, what can it hurt? Before his mind has a chance to decide which way it wants to lean, Ken goes ahead and answers bluntly, "I'm Ken."

Well. That decides that. Chikusa steps forward, still lingering a little bit behind his best friend. "I'm Chikusa."

"Chikusa? _That_ sounds foreign." Chikusa jerks his shoulders up defensively, but the boy is already turning around and shrugs nonchalantly. "Then again, my name is foreign too. _I'm_ Mukuro." There's a certain focus to the way he says the name, pride coating it as he rolls it off his tongue, and he turns to walk away from them down the hall.

They take a split second to look at each other before, without a second thought, they splash into the hall after him. Mukuro is ducking into another room by the time they make it, and they follow with their hands linked again. Chikusa thinks the room they come into might have been an office of some sort at one point in time. Of course, the only reason he thinks that is because of a single desk that's been left behind for who knows how long. A small bag is settled there, and Mukuro joins it as he hops up to sit on the desk regardless of the agonized creak that's dragged out.

"How com you're around here?" Ken asks, not waiting for the other boy to say anything. " _Nobody_ comes into Rudshore anymore. 'Cuz it's messed up."

"Shouldn't I ask you that too?" A laugh bubbles out of him as he puts the knife away in his bag. "You're the ones who ran into the flooded district yourselves! And you didn't stop or seemed confused at all about where you were going."

Mouth scrunched up, Ken ducks his head and glances over at Chikusa from the corner of his eyes. He can tell what's being asked of him, although he doesn't like being put on the spot so suddenly like this. Should they tell anything to him? On one hand... He took a knife to older boys and even _chased them off_ with apparently little difficulty. That's scary. On the other hand.. Chikusa would be lying if he said he's not a little envious or admiring of something like that. Even now, swinging his legs, Mukuro seems confident and at ease. It's nothing like how Chikusa was after _he_ hurt someone. Besides, if he wanted to hurt them by now, he would have done it, right?

After a few seconds of heavy thought, Chikusa finally answers. "We live here. We've always lived here."

"Even though it's all flooded?" At Chikusa's nod, Mukuro hums and kicks his legs through the air some more. "I came here because I heard it was abandoned and I thought it would be good to find a home here."

Well, that's some backwards logic if Chikusa has ever heard any. His brow wrinkles. "Why?"

"My mother said it was time for me to find a place to live on my own." That explains approximately nothing, but neither of them have a chance to press. Balancing his elbows on his knees, Mukuro leans forward and looks over them curiously. "Where do you live? Can I live there too?"

"Uh-" Crap, Ken is looking at him too for an answer. After a moment of inner floundering, Chikusa starts to pull him out of the room. "We have to discuss it." There. That sounds mature and adult like. After he's guided Ken far enough down the hall (he thinks, anyway), Chikusa bites his lip and looks at his best friend. "What do we do?"

Scratching the back of his ear, Ken sticks his tongue out the corner of his mouth. "Well, he chased off those jerks from before, so I like him!"

Of course. It'd be too much to ask for that Ken be as worried as he is, or think things through as much as he does. Holding back his sigh, Chikusa frowns. "What if he tries to hurt us? Or steal our things?"

"...Do you think he would?"

"He might. I mean... We don't know him. He could do anything. Right?"

"I guess... But Kakipii, I wouldn't let anybody hurt you!"

"I know," Chikusa says, because that's really the only response one can make after watching Ken fling his whole body at people twice his size, repeatedly, for even voicing a threat. "But... We still need to be careful." Going quiet, he loses himself in his thoughts as his thumb rubs along Ken's clammy skin. At the same time, if the other boy really _isn't_ interested in hurting them... It'd be really handy to have someone so scary around in case anymore bad things happen. Chikusa wants to keep going into Dunwall proper, but that means anything could happen. They could be ganged up at any time. Having one more set of hands, one more pair of eyes... "Maybe... If we kept the door to our room locked, and made him stay in a room far away from it... That'd be okay. And we can figure out if he's alright to be around."

Ken nods and agrees, because of course he does, and Mukuro himself seems quite pleased with the arrangement of having a room chosen for him. It takes the rest of the day to carefully make their way through Rudshore, but that's nothing new to Chikusa and Ken. What _is_ new is having a third person along, and Mukuro isn't exactly _quiet_. He hums, most of the time, and comments a whole lot on all sorts of things: how run down Rudshore is now, how the different paths through the windows are made, hagfish that flick along the surface. It's only when Ken announces loudly that they're back does he fall quiet. In a way, that's stranger than his talking as they all wade through the water of the second floor and go up to the third. The room furthest from Chikusa and Ken's room is a bathroom, but it works well enough after they drag in a mattress from one of the other rooms. "It'll do fine," Mukuro says glibly, plopping down on it with his bag resting in the sink. "I like it."

"That's good," is the only answer Chikusa can think to give, polite habits still hard pressed to die no matter how long it's been. "I guess we'll see you in the morning, then. Good night." Despite his words, Chikusa still makes sure to cover the keyhole in his parents' room and shoves things under the door crack. He can't be too careful. He has to look out for Ken.

At the end of the night, when the ladder is pulled up carefully and the ceiling door locked, Ken shows him he's not the only one thinking for once. As he reaches for the oil lamp to turn it off, Chikusa pauses at the pressure along him. "What are you doing?" he asks, tilting his head to the side. Ken wiggles his back against Chikusa's side harder.

"Watching!"

"Ken, you need to go to sleep..."

"And I will! But this way if anybody comes up the ladder, I'll know first." Looking back at him, Ken shoots of a wide grin that lights up the dark of the attic more than the oil lamp could ever hope to. He doesn't need to say anything else. Chikusa can read the message in his smile clear as day: _I'll always protect you_. That, more than anything, is what helps him drift off to sleep so easily. He doesn't know how much their lives will change if at all from the inclusion of another person in their home...

But so long as Ken is with him, Chikusa will be alright. It's not even a question.


	4. pockets full of stones

Morning comes, neither of them have had their throats slit in their sleep, and, Chikusa thinks, he's had enough excitement for the week. Perhaps the rest of the month, even. All Ken needs to do is take one look at him to see the exhaustion in his eyes despite sleeping the entire night through before he announces that they'll be back to scavenging in Rudshore some more. Frankly, Chikusa isn't even sure that he has enough energy for _that_ \- he feels strangely lethargic, head filled with fog and fluff. Yet he's never been one to deny Ken anything, so he lets his best friend take the lead today and follows his nudges to change into another set of clothes. So out of it, he almost forgets the new addition to their rundown household up until he nearly crashes into Ken's back when the other boy abruptly comes to a stop.

Mukuro is in one of the rooms, window wide open and his feet lazily swinging through the air.

"You get up early," he says breezily, not even glancing back at them. "I think the sun has only just started to come up."

Around Chikusa's hand, Ken's fingers knead into him for stability. "We gotta," he answers matter of factly, more bold than Chikusa suspects he really feels. "There's a lot to do, y'know!"

"Are you going back into the city again?"

Another glance back to Chikusa, taking in the tired tilt of his head and heavy curve of his spine. "We still have stuff to go through here," Ken says, giving his hand a squeeze until Chikusa squeezes back.

Before they can say anything else or Ken can lead him away, Mukuro wiggles off of the window ledge and hops back down onto the floor. With the light streaming back onto him and cleaned of any blood, he looks almost normal, now. There's still that smile on his face, calm and relaxed as anything, saying he knows everything they don't. "Well, can I come along too? I want to see the rest of the flooded district."

'Flooded District', now, not Rudshore anymore. Well, Chikusa guesses that makes sense. 'Rudshore' sounds like a place people live in, and no one does that anymore. Not besides him and Ken.

The second Ken looks to him, he knows what he has to do, and Chikusa heaves out a breath and an answer. "If you want, I guess..." It's for the better anyway. If Mukuro is with them, then that means they won't have to worry about him poking at things they don't want him to, or somehow finding his way into their space in the attic. "Just be careful... There are a lot of things in Rudshore that aren't sturdy anymore."

Mukuro look amused by the warning, but he nods anyway as he walks over to settle on Ken's other side- not like the blond would let him get any closer as evidenced by the way he bristles in deterrence. "Don't worry, I know how to make my way around dangerous places."

It's not all talk, either. As they make their way through Rudshore, through crumbling territory that is becoming more and more familiar with each passing day for the two of them, Mukuro keeps pace just fine. He has Ken's reflexes, leaping easily across gaps between buildings tucked close, and he has Chikusa's eyes, pointing out the growing colonies of River Krusts and unsteady floors. Really, by the time they're poking about the Refinery just to see if anything was left behind in the rush, Chikusa is left wondering just what the other boy is doing with a pair like them. However, even as he thinks it, it's Ken who voices it, throwing rocks around the corner at a solitary River Krust.

"Where'd _you_ come from, anyway?" He ducks as acidic spit goes through the air, splashing into the ankle-high water that surrounds them. Chikusa eyes it suspiciously, using a plank he'd picked up nearby to poke the thick glob away from them. "Was she that much of a bitch?"

"Ken," Chikusa sighs, disapproving, but Mukuro doesn't seem to mind much at all as he flips some of his hair back and tightens his grip around his knife.

"One letter off," he laughs, peeking carefully around the corner himself, pale fingers fluttering over Ken's shoulder, barely touching him. "My mother was a _witch_."

Ken jerks upright, eyes wide in wonder, and Chikusa presses closer without thinking, amazed and scared both in his silence. "Really!?" his best friend exclaims, no terror of any kind in his voice, because of course there wouldn't be. There are a million things in the world to be frightened of, and Ken isn't scared of even a teaspoon of them. "Do you know magic!? Can you curse people, is that what you did to those guys that were chasing us!?"

Like with anyone meeting Ken for the first time, the sheer _amount_ of his exuberance seems to blow Mukuro back, eyebrows raised as he leans away in reaction to the blond's gleefully interrogative lean forward. It only takes him a second for him to adjust, however, holding himself tall and preening. "I might," he purrs, twirling the knife between his fingers now, metal gleaming as it catches the light. "That's really why she was so insistent I leave, if I'm honest. It'd be _embarrassing_ , after all, if a witch's _son_ usurped her."

"Could you have?" Ken asks, eager, fingers twining around Chikusa's in response to the other's crowding. His voice is a hushed whisper. "Could you really have beaten a witch?"

The question sparks a fire in Mukuro's mismatched eyes and, before either of them can stop him, he's whirling around the corner. Yelling- Ken in excitement, Chikusa alarm- the two of them trip through the water to watch as Mukuro dodges the Krust's vile spit like an owl gliding flawlessly through the dark knight, twisting around it in a heartbeat on light feet. The River Krust's shell is still open, not quick enough to shut, when Mukuro drives his knife straight into its vulnerable insides and gives an almost malicious twist. A noise, a gurgle, and Chikusa stares with wide eyes as it goes slack.

Not finished just yet, Mukuro fearlessly thrusts his hand inside and, with a grunt, tugs out a pearl that cradles easily in the palm of his hand and shines just as brightly as his knife did in the sunlight. "I," he announces, rosy cheeked and bright eyed, "can beat _anything_."

Whooping, Ken races over to Mukuro, and Chikusa nearly slips in his haste to follow after. "That was awesome! I want to do that!"

"Ken, you aren't allowed to do that!" Still shaky from secondhand adrenaline, Chikusa comes to a stop in front of the dead Krust and, thus, Mukuro himself. This close, it's easy to see not only the way the other boy's face is flushed from exertion, but how that bright red stands out all the harder against skin that's become horribly pale. Even as Mukuro shifts his hands behind his back, shifting his balance to one leg and looking coy, Chikusa thinks he can spot a slight shake to them. He doesn't say anything, however, watching as Ken remains oblivious and enamored.

"Show me how to take out River Krusts like that!"

"Ken..."

"Well," Mukuro hums, tilting his head back and glancing down at them from the meager bit of height he has over them from his perch of rubbish, " _I_ can do it because I was raised by witches. But _maybe_ I could find the time to teach you how to do things like that..." Ken whoops, spinning in the water and sending it flying everywhere. While Chikusa blocks it wearily with one hand, Mukuro hops down and passes him by. "But for now..." And he slips the pearl into his hand, winking to the bespectacled boy without missing a step. "I can definitely tell you about all sorts of other things I learned about before my mother couldn't stand me to stay near her."

"Tell me all of them!" Ken demands eagerly twisting after him. With Chikusa still blinking in confused shock, Ken takes advantage of the fact and tugs him along gleefully. "C'mon, Kakipii!"

In a twist that's not surprising at all, indulging Ken's ravenous curiosity and excitement takes up the entire day, but Mukuro welcomes his constant focus even as the three of them dig through Rudshore's ruins some more. Even more than that- he _basks_ in the attention, balancing on exposed beams and hopping across gaping holes in wooden floors. For all that the day is supposed to be more relaxed, Chikusa ends up having to do more damage control than anything in restraining Ken's eagerness to mimic their new bit of company. Everything passes by in a blur and, by the time they return home, he's honestly and genuinely befuddled that they managed to find enough things for the three of them at all. When they finally return, Chikusa sinks down onto the floor of his room and stares dully at the cooling sky outside his window. In the room not far off, he thinks he can hear Ken scurrying to fetch one of the lamps that they've hoarded in the past months. At least there's one good thing: being in Rudshore means there's always whale oil to go after. No one has even tried to come and forage the remains, at least not that he's ever seen or heard about. He supposes it would all be too much wasted effort for not a lot of gain for anyone who isn't living like him and Ken.

From the corner of his eye, he sees a bit of movement, and watches as Mukuro comes further into the room. Loathe as he is to do anything else today besides eat and go to sleep, Chikusa forces his body into sitting upright a little more so that he can watch the other boy further. They'd all agreed to eat supper together, sure, but... he still can't help his caution. He doesn't want to, either, not when he has to keep an eye on Ken and make sure his best friend stays alright.

Mukuro is a lot more subdued away from Ken's exuberance, eyes reflecting strangely in the fading light as he settles down on the floor not too far away from him, and his smile is back to be a little more relaxed and knowing. "Did he wear you out that easily?" he asks, sounding faintly amused.

Brows drawing together, Chikusa thins his lips. "You were both really exhausting, yeah," he says, not inclined to let him slither away from the responsibility. To his credit, at least Mukuro gives a shrug that's almost apologetic.

"I thought the pearl would make up for it all," he says glibly. "Don't you like it?"

"A pearl isn't going to do anything for me..."

That's not really true, and they both know it. However, Mukuro says nothing to argue against the statement, only glances over him again and hums. "I can see how the two of you have been living here if you're so practical," he says, still smiling. "You must be prepared for all sorts of things."

Faintly, Chikusa thinks of not only various sorted piles up in the attic but of blood on his hands and his fingers slick around a knife. "I guess," he answers quietly. It doesn't seem to be an answer that Mukuro can really work with, and the rest of their time is spent in silence with both of them simply watching each other carefully until Ken returns with a lamp in one hand and a can opener in the other. A meager dinner is split between the three of them, Mukuro amuses Ken with more stories of witches and wildness, and, eventually, they all go to sleep again much like they had the night before.

And life goes on.

Mukuro makes life a little bit easier, in the passing days, just by virtue of having another set of eyes and hands available. He seems fine with just getting used to life in Rudshore, and shows no intention of moving on to find a place of his own although there are certainly plenty of places that he could find, surely. Sometimes he disappears, going off to who knows where, and Chikusa thinks that will be the last of him- but no. Inevitably, before the sun disappears, he's back again. Chikusa keeps an eye on him just in case, for whenever he distracts Ken with stories, and is resigned to this intrusion in their life.

So is how their life is, until the day a hagfish thrashes out of Ken's grip and its gaping jaws dig through his cheek and goes jittering over the bridge of his nose.

Jerking back with a sharp swear, Ken drops the thing, but Chikusa doesn't even see how the fish flops viciously against the floorboards. Everything in him is focused on the blood streaming down Ken's face, and he shouts in alarm, at his best friend's side in a heartbeat. "Ken!"

"Outsider's stupid crusty asshole-!"

Any other day, Chikusa would berate him for the language. He can't spare a single thought for it right now, instead grabbing Ken's hand and jerking him away from the hagfish still flopping on the ground and onto his old bed. Mukuro is already taking care of it regardless, knife going straight into the creature with practiced timing, although Chikusa is only aware of his actions in the faintest of ways. Right now, he's focusing on pressing the sheets up against the wound on Ken's face. It spreads so _quickly_ , a growing stain of crimson that stands out against fading white, and he can barely hear his own panicked breathing over Ken's whimpering.

"Ken-" He swallows down air, forces his mind to think. He's read about this. He's seen diagrams and listened to maids gossip about injuries drunkard husbands had gotten while at the bars. This can be fixed. Chikusa reminds himself of that. _This can be fixed._ "Ken, just press down with the sheet, okay? Keep this here, even if it stings. Got it?" All he needs is Ken's reluctant nod before he leaps off of the bed, rushing to their room. Mukuro is still awake, still around, but Chikusa doesn't care as he tugs down the ladder to the attic. Beneath all the things they've accumulated throughout the months, it's a chore he has no patience for to find some of their medical supplies, but he does, breathless all the while.

Ken is right where he left him, and the fish has been left to bleed out while pinned to the carpet in favor of Mukuro joining him on the bed. He peers with interest at the soaked-through sheet the blond is still obediently holding up, although he doesn't mess with it himself. Taking in a deep shuddering breath and feeling a thousand miles away, buzzing in his ears, Chikusa settles down on Ken's other side. Biting his lip, he gently pushes Ken's hand away. The wound is no longer gushing out blood, although it's still dripping slowly down onto his shirt. Another deep breath. He can't feel his fingers again, even as he's watching them gently begin the process of rinsing the wound with a small flask of water. "It'll be okay, Ken," he hears, past all the buzzing and his own beating heart.

"Hurts," he grumbles, but it's all he says, falling utterly quiet and his eyes focused straight on him. Chikusa ignores it, patting the wet space dry with what of the sheet isn't soaked through with red, and then carefully applies some salve. Distantly, he's reminded of sweeter times, leaning over in his father's office and applying a salve to a much tinier inconsequential wound on Ken's face.

If only things were so simple and small like then.

By the time he finishes, he's wrapped bandages clumsily but securely around Ken's head to cover the wound, and he squirms in clear discomfort just from their presence. "Don't pick at them," Chikusa warns him firmly, swatting at his hands. "You can't mess with that at all, okay, Ken? Now stay here."

Immediately, Ken jerks up, eyes sharp. "What, why, where are you going?" All that seems to soothe him is Chikusa's hand settling over his.

"One of us has to cook dinner, Ken... You need to recover, okay? You _have_ to get better."

While he scrunches up his mouth, Ken doesn't disagree. Instead, he flips his hand up, slotting his fingers neatly inbetween Chikusa's. "Okay, but come back, got it, Kakipii?" Bright brown eyes meet his head on. "Come back." It's an order, a plea woven quietly around each syllable, and Chikusa can't say he's oblivious to what Ken means. For all that he squeezes Ken's hand back, for all that he gets up to his feet instead of sitting on the bed, he can't really feel any of it. The world is distant and, if not for a single person in it, inconsequential.

That includes Mukuro, a ghost who trails after Chikusa to the fireplace in the room next over to his parents', although his helpfulness and preparing the fish for cooking is definitely useful. It doesn't really matter until Chikusa feels like he's come a little more into himself, like the fire is reigniting his ability to feel, and suddenly he's _exhausted_. This always happens when he "leaves", his body and all his emotions quietly sinking him down to the bottom from the weight of it all. It's not an experience he likes, but it's one he's resigned himself to.

As he's fighting weariness, eyes focused dully on the roasting fish, Mukuro finally speaks up. "That was really clever of you." Blinking into awareness, Chikusa glances over to him. Those mismatched eyes are focused on him almost as intensely as Ken's had been only moments before. "Knowing how to take care of him like that, I mean. Has he gotten into a lot of scrapes like that before?"

Shaking his head, Chikusa murmurs, "No... Not really... We're usually careful enough..."

"Then how did you know what to do?"

Mukuro is leaning a little more forward, now, and there's something about the intensity in his gaze that makes Chikusa shy. It's silly, honestly, because he's been with Ken for _years_ now, and Ken burns as bright as the summer sun. But... that seems different than Mukuro's brand of intensity. Ducking his head, he shrugs. "I've read things. My father had books in the library, so... I read."

"Aren't those kind of books really hard?"

A minute nod. "I had to look things up a lot." Carefully, he glances up again, and is almost startled by how close Mukuro is to him... and how the other boy is nodding in blatant approval.

"You must be really smart, then. Ken is lucky that you're with him all the time."

Heat blossoms across Chikusa's face, hotter than the flames licking at the fish, and he focuses hard on them like that will make up for what Mukuro is saying to him. "It doesn't matter how smart I am if we don't have a lot of things to wrap around his face," he says, not sure how to handle the compliment and thus ignoring it. "We don't find things like that a lot... Not in Rudshore, at least, not anymore."

"Oh? Does that means you're going to go back into the city, then?"

Chikusa falls silent. That's... what he _should_ do. That's what he needs to do, in fact. If Rudshore is devoid of the kind of supplies they need, then the only logical choice is to go into the rest of Dunwall. Yet when he thinks about it... the towering buildings, the throngs of people sweeping him away like the tide...

That, he knows he could stomach, if only for Ken's sake and not a single other living soul in the world. But then he thinks of the sneering pawnshop owner, and the bitter twist of alcohol hanging around the City Watch, and Chikusa feels sick to his stomach. Those kinds of things, he can't face them on his own. He simply _can't_. Merely thinking about it makes him want to pull back again, to 'leave' despite his assurance to Ken. Honestly, he's not sure how it doesn't happen. Finally remembering Mukuro is there, that he has to answer him, Chikusa nods slowly. "I'll have to sell things to get enough supplies." His teeth catch on his lower lip. "But... it's hard." Even with Ken at his side, all protective violence, they weren't able to get nearly as much as he had hoped from selling his mother's ring.

An amused noise from Mukuro finally draws Chikusa's gaze back to him, and he flips his hair back casually. "Because of how stingy the shopkeeps are?" he asks, and seems smug when a nod is the answer. "Well, you don't have to worry about that. I know all _sorts_ of tricks which will make them give you more money for things."

"...Really?"

"Mhm." Reaching for the long forks which keep the fish in the fire, Mukuro carefully starts to remove it. "It's not hard, once you know how to talk to people. A lot of them are the same." And, casually, "I learned that from witches too."

Chikusa doesn't pay it any mind. He just leans forward to help with the fish, casting uncertain but tentatively hopeful glances at him. "And they really work? The tricks that will make them pay more for things?"

"Of course."

"Then..." This is new territory, something he's never had to do before, but it _needs_ to be done. So, Chikusa takes a quiet breath as they start to cut the fish up. "Will you come with me into Dunwall tomorrow, then?"

From the corner of his eye, he can see Mukuro's lips curl in a satisfied smile. "Of course."

"Let me go with you!" Ken says when Chikusa tells him of the plan the next morning, predictable as the sun. "I want to go into the city!"

"No." Chikusa squares his shoulders and sets his jaw, going stern like he remembers his father doing. "You're still hurt, Ken. Anyway, you'd just draw attention to yourself, because everybody would look at you with bloody bandages on your face." And they _are_ bloody, spots of red showing through the white and only growing with every passing hour. Anxiety strangles Chikusa's lungs whenever he notices. "We'll be back, we won't leave... So just... stay, okay? We'll come back."

Tension and dissatisfaction are writ all over Ken's face, eyes dark and mouth twisted, and Chikusa thinks for a second that he'll have to argue with his best friend even more. After a moment, however, he reaches over to tightly grip his fingers. "Promise."

"I promise. We'll come back. We're just going to get more bandages and things like that."

With that, Ken reluctantly lets go of his hand. "You better."

"I will." Promise made, he turns back to the doorway where Mukuro is patiently waiting, and, together, they set out for Dunwall.

Just like in Rudshore, Mukuro is clever and quick as he looks out for any of the City Watch, and he slips into the crowds on the street like a hagfish through water. Chikusa doesn't dare hold his hand; this isn't Ken. Instead, he has to fight and struggle to stay right behind him so that they don't become separated. Although it's not as bad as the time when him and Ken had gone out together, it's still overwhelming, and all Chikusa can do to combat it without his anchor nearby is to focus directly on Mukuro's back.

The unfortunate drawback of this is that he doesn't pay a single bit of attention to where they're actually going, and his mouth goes dry when he realizes this, eyes landing on unfamiliar shop names and streets. Mukuro has stopped just a little ways from him, glancing up at one shop in particular, and hums when Chikusa steps close. "You could always hold my hand if you'd like," he drawls, but it sounds almost mocking, in a way, and Chikusa shakes his head.

He'll be fine. He'll be strong. For Ken, he has to be.

"Have you been here before?" he asks, investigating the shop through the window. It's a little cleaner than the first one he went to, he has to admit. A good sign? Clean people care, at least, if only about their appearances.

"Not at all," Mukuro answers glibly, stepping besides him. "But I'd heard about it before I went to the flooded district, and it doesn't sound that bad. Anyway, did you bring what you wanted to sell?"

Nodding, Chikusa lays his hands onto the bag he has slung over his shoulder. "A pearl, a necklace, and a ring," he tells him quietly. It's his worse case scenario: if they still can't get a lot no matter what tricks Mukuro knows, then he'll gladly sell more just to make enough to buy what they need.

Mukuro falls quiet himself, thinking with what looks like considerable care to Chikusa's eyes. "Then what we'll want to do... is that we'll find someone to regularly sell things like the pearl to. That's easy to get away with, after all, because boys like us usually are used to get pearls from River Krusts, right?"

Chikusa shrugs rigidly, not sure of what to say. This sounds like something Ken would know, but not him. He never questioned where the pearls of his mother's necklaces came from, only that she had them. Even his curiosity didn't venture everywhere, let alone something like that.

Fortunately, it doesn't look like Mukuro is really interested in an actual response, because he keeps on talking. "For things like jewelry, it'll be a little harder." His eyes flick to Chikusa, a smile playing on his lips. "And it gets attention like those thugs, I bet." As Chikusa thins his lips, unable to deny that, Mukuro continues, "we'll have to go around the city every time we want to sell something, at least until it's been long enough that you'll have probably been forgotten by some." Idly, he waves his hand through the air. "But we can worry about that in the future. For now, we'll just have to go to another shop after we sell something here."

"...So the pearl or the jewelry first...?"

Narrowing his eyes, Mukuro taps his chin before nodding. "Pearl. It should be simple enough." Having decided, he starts to ooze confident satisfaction again, and there's that grin once more directed at Chikusa. "So you want to learn tricks to get the most money for your things, right?" A nod as an answer, and he grins wider. "Start high. Don't let _them_ decide the starting price. Make them bring you down to something you still want and that's more acceptable for them. It makes them think they've done well."

Blinking, Chikusa goes over the idea. That... makes sense, now that he thinks about it, although he's not sure how confident he is about doing it himself. "Won't they see through what we're trying to do?"

Another careless handwave. "When it's children, or women, they won't think they're clever enough for that," he explains. "Anyway, you should go first."

His heart freezes in his chest. "What?"

"You should go for a hundred coin to start with," Mukuro continues, about to say something else before he trails off to inspect Chikusa carefully. "It's not _that_ hard," he adds.

Chikusa sort of wants to snap at him, to tell him that of _course_ Mukuro wouldn't find it difficult- not when he's so confident and dangerous and knows what he's doing. All he does instead is thin his lips. "Then why don't you do it?"

"It's more believable if it's someone like you. You _look_ proper and like you won't do anything." Well. He guesses he can't argue with that, not with his upbringing and how adults had praised him for being a quiet and polite child. Still, he must seem uncertain, because Mukuro says, "I'll be right there with you, of course. Nothing will go wrong then."

That's not really the reassurance he wants, not the _person_ he wants, but Chikusa will take what he can get. After glancing at him to make sure that Mukuro won't just ditch him, he ducks inside the pawnshop. It's a lot cleaner than the first one him and Ken went to, the floor clearly having been swept not that long ago and shelves organized neatly. There's a man behind the counter, broad shouldered and missing what looks like a chunk of his cheek. At least, that's what it looks like to Chikusa, although he'll admit that there's a beard in the way so he can't be sure. While physically he seems more intimidating, he doesn't have the same aggression as the other pawnshop owner when he looks up to the see the two boys. Instead, there's just a raise of his eyebrow. "You boys lost?"

Chikusa shakes his head and glances to Mukuro, but he's not really paying attention to the conversation or the clerk. He's simply curiously browsing the things on the nearest shelves. Glancing back, swallowing thickly, Chikusa forces himself a few steps forward. "No, but... We'd like to sell something."

Putting down the pocket watch he'd apparently been going over before the two of them stepped inside, the man rests his arms on the counter and gestures them closer with a few twitches of his finger. "Not filched, is it?" Chikusa shakes his head from side to side, hard, hair flopping all over. "Alright, alright, calm down. Whatcha got, then?"

Reaching into his bag, his fingers find the smooth curve of the pearl and he pulls it out, clutched in his palm until he can show it with his fingers slowly unfurling. "It's a pearl... We got it from a River Krust." A lot more interest sparks in the clerk's eyes and he leans a little more forward to get a better look at it. Chikusa keeps his hand up, although warily- it feels like it would be too easy for an adult to just snatch the pearl out of his hand. For a second, he almost forgets to speak, but then he remembers Mukuro's advice and hastily says, "Could we get 100 coin for it?"

The man snorts, although it's not with any particular malice. Just incredulity. "You aren't giving me solid gold, kid. I know Krust pearls are tough ta get out of 'em, but just one's not worth that much. Especially one like that." Tapping his fingers against the wood, he considers for a moment before giving a different offer. "25 coin. Not bad, innit? Could get ya somethin' nice for your mum with that." When Chikusa balks, he sighs. "30, even, maybe, after I've had a look at it to make sure you're not pulling at my leg."

Chikusa glances back at Mukuro, trying to see what he thinks if anything, and he's finally looking back to the proceedings at hand. However, there's nothing in his expression that's really helpful, and Chikusa looks up at the clerk once more. "Are you sure we couldn't get more?" he asks, feeling a little faint as if the air is too hot to breathe. "It's not small... So it could go for a pretty high price, right?" Words are lodging in his throat, threatening to choke him, and Chikusa isn't entirely sure how he gets them out. "What if it was 70?"

"They don't go that high, kid," the clerk says, although Chikusa wonders how true that is. "Maybe 40, and that's me being generous."

"50!" Mukuro finally speaks up from besides Chikusa, arms crossed and his eyes eternally bright. "That's already half what he wanted, so it wouldn't be fair to go any lower. C'mon, Mister!"

Heaving out a sigh, the clerk holds out one thick calloused hand. "We'll see once I take a look at this pearl," he says grudgingly. "Check if it's really fifty coin like you two seem to think." Worried but desperate, Chikusa quietly drops the coin in his palm and fairly clings to the counter as the man starts to inspect it. This means using a lot of different little tools, although the main one seems to be looking at it with something that seems to function like a tiny little scope of some sort. It must only take a few minutes, logically, but time drags on in Chikusa's mind. The weight of it all only leaves him when the man finally pulls the scope away and looks reluctantly impressed as he gives his verdict. "Well, it looks like you boys got lucky... In more ways than one, since it looks like you both still got your eyes." The pearl clicks gently as he places it down onto the counter. "Fine- 50 coin."

All the worry and adrenaline in him is rushed out with the breath he releases, and leaves in its wake a shakiness in him, one that threatens to unmoor him from his own skull, but he still manages out a quiet, "Thank you."

"Mm." As he starts to count out the coins on the counter, he asks, "You two plan on getting any more pearls out of them River Krusts?"

Chikusa isn't sure if he can answer, or if he could supply something that affirms one answer or the other. Thankfully, it looks like Mukuro has gotten tired of being quiet. "We might," he says glibly, like he didn't shake after taking care of the River Krust responsible for their current gain. "Why?"

"Well, if you ever get some more pearls without getting their spit all over you, maybe come back again." He slides the coins across the counter, where Chikusa dutifully and silently begins to put them into his bag. "I know a few people who wouldn't mind seeing some more of these."

"Well, I guess we'll let you know then," Mukuro says, obviously pleased, but Chikusa is already shuffling back out to the door, and Mukuro's footsteps soon join him not too far behind. Once they're out in the fresh air again and down the street a little, he laughs triumphantly. "See? I told you it was easy." He glances to him, only to pause as he looks at Chikusa.

At least, Chikusa thinks he's looking at him. That might not be real. _Nothing_ feels real. It's like he's dreaming, or underwater, weightless and strange and he can't feel anything again. Not even the strap of his bag, although he knows that his fingers are wrapped around it and that it's digging into his shoulder. A kind of buzzing is going on in the very deepest parts of his ears, and... Is Mukuro talking? He's saying something, but the buzzing is louder now, drowning it out, and it seems so much more distant...

Chikusa nods, even though he can't hear the words he's agreeing to. He doesn't want to seem weak, even though he is, here on his own without Ken there to steady him. As he tries to remember to just keep moving forward, Mukuro moves more into view, and reaches down to take his hand. Chikusa lets him pull him along and doesn't even try to ask where they're going; what would the use be? He simply retreats into his own head as Mukuro pulls his body along, simultaneously aware of everything while also not seeing any of it. At some point, they sit down. At some point, he closes his eyes.

It's not sleep, and yet, when he opens them again, the sun is so much further along in the sky than he remembers it to have been. His messenger bag is still around his shoulders, the weight of it nestled on his lap with his fingers curled over it, and, most surprising of all, Mukuro is besides him. They're on the steps that lead to a small little side street off of the main one, with the hum of the crowd bustling behind them (and when did that replace the buzzing in his ears?) Elbows digging into his knees, Mukuro has his hands pressed together and fingers tapping at his lips. It takes him a few seconds before he happens to glance at Chikusa and stirs. "Oh? Are you feeling better now?"

He's feeling a little exhausted, actually, as if someone took his brain from his skull and tossed it around a little before letting it ooze back into its proper place. Instead of saying that, Chikusa nods again, but this time he manages to get some words out as well. "How long has it been?"

"Mmm... A few hours I suppose," Mukuro muses, and only seems faintly amused when Chikusa gives a jolt. "There's no need to worry, you know."

"But Ken! We need to get everything for him!"

"I don't think you were in the right place to be getting anything for anyone, honestly." As Chikusa flinches, Mukuro continues to talk. "But we still have the whole day, and those bandages should hold just fine." That's a fairly optimistic view, considering this is Ken, but he says nothing and allows the other boy keep going. "Anyway, I'll take charge for the next shop. I think you could use the break." There's no argument there, only tired obedience as he follows after Mukuro again when he leads the way through the crowd.

It's easy to do, too. Mukuro doesn't have Ken's complete and utter ease in slipping through the crowds, but he makes up for it in somehow drawing the eye to him, and Chikusa can just follow after the signature spiky ponytail he has with minimal trouble now. As before, he doesn't really pay much mind to where they're going with the world still seeming a little off, but, in no time at all, they're in front of another shop and he's passively handing over his mother's jewelry to Mukuro. Words are said, numbers exchanged, but all he does is stand there.

He's still so tired.

The only thing that stirs him is the cold feel of coin in his hands, and he forges onwards to the general store. Distantly, he's aware that people take to him well, quiet and automatically polite when spoken to, but all he's truly focused on is getting bandages and herbs, along with some other things that he recalls they don't have but really do need. It depletes most of the money they earned, but wasn't that the point, anyway? When he's finally done, bag heavy around his shoulders, Mukuro guides them back again. It's only _then_ that he realizes how long the shadows have gotten, the sky awash with deep maroon and aching orange.

Jerking, he lurches forward to grab Mukuro's hand. "Come on! We have to get back!" Without waiting for a response, he starts to hurry forward and drags him along.

Mukuro's laugh is incredulous. "And now you're getting worked up! You really don't-"

"Come on!"

If there are any City Watch around, they're not lurking by the pub near the street that leads back to Rudshore, and that's the only important thing to Chikusa. By the time they're going down the familiar street, everything is practically _pitch_ , and if it wasn't so simple and he wasn't so familiar with it... He's sure they would be lost.

Except it's not completely pitch, not for long, and Chikusa slows as he sees a light glowing bright in the distance, suddenly wary. Behind him, he hears the faint noise that is Mukuro sliding his knife out of hiding. Maybe it's some homeless person trying to find refuge in what's clearly an abandoned district. Maybe it's looters, late to the party but desperate to dig through and find anything at all, even a coin. Maybe it's nothing at all. There's no need to panic, not yet. Maybe it's nothing. Holding his breath and fingers wrapped as tight as he can manage around his shoulder strap, Chikusa forces himself to step closer and closer until he can see past the glow.

It's not nothing.

It's Ken.

For all that he's the one sitting near the lamp there on the steps, he must have been there for _ages_ glaring into the darkness, because the blond reacts first by leaping up to his feet with a shout. "Kakipii!" He bolts forward, and Chikusa barely has any time to prepare himself before Ken is barreling into him. "You came back!" There's something twisted in his throat, makes it broken like all the wood and stone that makes up Rudshore now, and that finally has Chikusa reaching up to dig his fingers into Ken's arms.

"Ken! You're supposed to be back home- why aren't you in bed!?" As Ken pulls away a little, Chikusa sucks in a sharp breath. The makeshift bandages are still in place, but they're soaked through now, and there's spots where it's clear that at some point Ken had to retie them. He can't tell if it's because he was always bleeding that bad, or that they've gotten worse because Ken was running around all the way from home to _here_. "Your face-"

"You didn't come back!" The ragged _desperation_ in Ken's voice knocks him silent, and his voice might as well be locked away forever when those wide eyes pierce into him. He's _never_ seen Ken this upset. Not even when he had hagfish teeth in his face, which had to hurt more than anything. "It just- it kept getting later, and later, and you didn't come back!"

He didn't come back. Chikusa's throat closes in on itself, like he's being choked. Just like his parents didn't come back, like no one else came back, for either of them.

His fingers dig into Ken's shirt, as if he can tell him with that sole gesture that he'll never leave him alone, not like the rest of the world has. "I'm sorry," he says quietly, aching with the words. "Just- let me fix your face, okay?" Gently, he guides Ken back down to the steps, and begin the long process of peeling bandages from his skin.

As he does so, Mukuro settles down besides Ken, and flicks his ear. "I _told_ you I would bring him back, didn't I?" he says, something which is news to Chikusa, but which Ken doesn't dispute. "We just had to go to a few places, and it took some time." There's no mention of what Chikusa went through, or how he simply 'left', and he's not sure if he's grateful or not.

"How come you had to go to different places?" Ken asks, ignoring when Chikusa tsks at him for moving much when he's trying to clean his face with a flask of fountain water.

"Stop that... And we couldn't sell everything on one place, so we sold the pearl to one person and the jewelry to another person. And then we had to go find a store for bandages and things. Seriously, Ken, stop moving..."

It doesn't take long before Ken's face is re-bandaged by lamplight, and Chikusa dares to trust Mukuro with keeping him safe and steady while he leads the way back home. It's not something they've done often, traveling through Rudshore in the dark, so he's extra careful as he lights the way, until, finally, they're stepping carefully into familiar wet floor, and going up the stairs to what's become home. By that point, Ken is already uncharacteristically tired again, eyes drooping, and Chikusa herds him to his parents' room where they can stoke the fireplace, and the chill from the broken windows have long since been blocked up with whatever could work. It'll be good for him, he thinks. Especially when he's so weak and tired that Chikusa wouldn't dare have him climb the ladder up to their attic space and risk him falling.

Any other night, and he'd leave it at that, more secure with the knowledge that Mukuro was in another room. This night, however, as the other boy starts to leave, Chikusa hesitates for only a moment before calling out. "Mukuro?" Pausing, he looks back at him. "Do... you want to stay in here tonight with the fire?"

A flicker of a smile. "It'd be warmer," he admits, and soon enough the three of them are nested in a blanket pile. Ken is already asleep, mouth half open and drool trickling out, but the bandages are still clean and white. As he nestles besides him, Chikusa looks over at Mukuro.

"Thank you," he whispers quietly before he squeezes his eyes shut, not sure if he wants to see the reaction.

After that, it's so much easier to be around Mukuro. Ken even eases up a little when he knows that the other boy is at Chikusa's side when they go out into Rudshore, foraging for food or supplies or things to sell. Chikusa has to admit it makes him feel a little better, too. Mukuro has so many ideas and suggestions to offer; all Chikusa has to do is _let_ himself listen to them. Let himself _accept_ them. When he does, it's amazing how much more energy he suddenly finds himself having. All this time, he'd been frittering it away on worrying about Ken, and anxiety on their supplies, and... He's known, for months, that life is so much harder when it's just him and Ken on their own without parents or servants or family to watch over them. It's just that he'd never realized that so much of that exhaustion was from having to _think_. But with Mukuro with them, he doesn't have to shoulder that burden alone.

It's... nice. And Mukuro is nice, giving him sweet words about how careful and intelligent he is with Ken's wound, praising him for when he thinks of a way to save food or money. By all means, Mukuro is still troublesome in a lot of ways, and tiring, but he manages to keep Ken distracted- which is good, since Ken still needs to stay inside and recover and he'd be driven up the wall _without_ something to keep his attention. Still, even with that, it's a relief when the skin has finally healed enough over the wounds and Ken no longer has to have bandages tied securely around his face. Once again, Chikusa and Ken join together with more than a little relief... but now there's Mukuro there, too.

The only difference is that it no longer feels like he's an outsider.

And, without him feeling like an outsider, it's unbelievable in Chikusa's eyes how much _easier_ things become. Not only foraging throughout Rudshore and backalleys, but when they make it through Dunwall, too. It doesn't look so unusual when it's three boys their age all together, just another pack of kids wandering through the streets, and, after the first few times, Chikusa feels his breath become more natural. Mukuro lets Ken lead them, most of time, because Ken seems to know Dunwall in a way that's almost _instinctual_ , like it's carved into his bones, but soon they fall in tandem with each other. Ken knows the way, Mukuro knows who to go after, and Chikusa knows what they deserve.

It's still not easy, especially with one more mouth to feed, but it's a little bit better.

With anxiety no longer weighing him down, Chikusa realizes that he doesn't mind Mukuro's stories as much, either, and he's glad to curl up with Ken in the blankets by the fire or glow of a lamp as the boy amazes them with witch tales. One night, however, as he finishes gesturing dramatically, he looks down at the two of them with a considering shine to his mismatched eyes.

"You know," he says slowly, "these stories don't _have_ to just be stories. We could do all the things that witches do, if we wanted."

Ken bolts up, bright and intense as the fire before them. "What, how!?" he asks, already eager before he knows the details while Chikusa is a bit more cautious as he pushes himself to his knees. Smiling with the edge of some great secret, Mukuro crouches down and leans close, the action which draws Ken and Chikusa nearer as well without them having to even think twice about it. His voice is quiet but burning as he whispers to them.

"What do you know of the Outsider?"


End file.
